The Extras
by fancifulflamingo
Summary: Neville is deep in love with a Slytherin girl, who actually does not scare him. Dean has a gut-wrenching crush on her sister, a Gryffindor who does scare him. Seamus is just along for the ride. Follow the daring Henry sisters as they navigate through the awkward and wild times at Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1: Lenore and Margaux

**Hi there! This is a love story between Neville and a halfblood Slytherin and Dean and her Gryffindor sister! If you're just here for the climax, chapter 21. Continue to chapter 30 and beyond for mild smut. Or stick with the entire story for sweet romance. Rated M for language and sexual references.**

 **.**

He gazed at her.

And she was lovely.

Neville Longbottom had never met anyone more beautiful in his life. He did not expect he ever would. He admired her with all his being. She was intelligent, humorous, compassionate, and every other vocabulary word you could think of to describe a splendid soul. The way she looked at him made him feel like time stopped and the sky was falling around them. But no matter how entranced he was with her, nobody would ever let him forget the fact that Lenore was a Slytherin.

She was not a bad Slytherin. Sure, she was canny, ambitious, and resourceful, but she was not evil. She could never be evil. Lenore Henry used her skills for good. She stuck up for kids who did not have a voice. Anybody who bullied a younger kid would eventually have to face the wrath of Lenore. What a wrath it was. Lenore was full of fire when she got worked up, but otherwise she was her kind-hearted smiling self. She acted as a kind of liaison between Slytherin and the other houses— a diplomat if you will. A very limited number of Slytherins were actually nice. Lenore was one of them. She found friends in other houses, namely Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson. Quite a few people were scared of her purely for the green and silver decorations on her school robes, but Katie and Angelina knew the real Lenore. Neville and his friends knew as well.

This particular time, they were together in the Room of Requirement, training in Dumbledore's Army. Lenore had put up some protests about joining. She argued that it was very risky for her to be the only Slytherin in the group.

"They could follow me to the meeting!" she had said.

"She has a point," Ron replied.

"Lenore," Harry said, "As long as you are very careful, you should be fine."

"And we mean very careful," Hermione added.

Lenore ended up joining at the insistence of Katie and Angelina, with whom she was currently laughing in the corner. Each had their wands drawn, practicing the expecto patronum spell. Lenore was struggling, but Katie formed her patronus on one of the first few tries. After practicing, Angelina got it, too. As Lenore looked around the room., she noticed almost everybody had been able to produce cloudy sparks from their wands, some even had a fully defined patronus.

"I can't do this," Lenore sighed.

"Yes you can!" Angelina announced. "You just need help. Harry!"

The girl flagged Harry down with a wave, her braids flouncing as she tried to catch his attention. The be speckled boy turned around at the sound of his name and raised his brow. "Yes, Angelina?"

But Angelina just stepped back, leaving Lenore to do the talking. She panicked. It was not like her to ask for help, much less from a Gryffindor. "Oh, um, I can't get this spell."

"Alright, just one moment," he assured her.

Harry turned around and left Lenore standing alone. Angelina and Katie were distracted by Leanne Kuang's patronus, trying to guess if it was a beaver or a bird. Lenore smoothed down her long brown hair and blinked her eyelashes as she waited patiently for Harry to return.

Harry craned his neck in search of the tall mess of light brown hair. He spotted him on the side of the room with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan.

"Neville!" Harry called out as he walked over. He snapped his fingers and grabbed Neville's arm. "Come with me."

Neville dug his feet into the ground, but Harry was stronger than him. He reluctantly followed Harry through the sea of students. "W-what are we doing?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't have time for this. Help Lenore."

Neville's heart nearly beat out of his chest. "H-help L-lenore?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You can do it. Calm down, mate. Your better at conjuring a patronus than anyone here, besides me. Or Hermione. Maybe Pavarti- that's besides the point. You're good. Now help Lenore."

He clapped his hands as Lenore became visible. Neville's eyes scanned her body language. She seemed to bed nervous, maybe even frustrated.

"Lenore!" Harry said. "You know Neville, right?"

"Yeah!" She beamed her wide smile. She had a beautiful smile and Neville could not help but absorb her warmth and return a small grin. "Hi, Neville. How are you?"

"H-hi, Lenore," he stammered. "I-I'm good."

She smiled again at him, which made his stomach do a somersault. She was incredibly beautiful today, with her big green eyes, long dark brown hair, and shining smile. Neville had fancied her for so long he almost forgot what it was like to not spend his day catching glimpses at her or attempting to gain her attention.

Harry interrupted his train of thought. "Neville here is going to show you how to produce a patronus. He's quite good. Great, even."

Neville began to panic. "I-I'm not sure—"

"Neville is quite good at this," Harry said, patting him on the back. "Now if you'll excuse me."

Lenore saw Harry shoot a glance towards her roommate's friend Cho Chang. Before she could make a mental note to tell her roommate later, Neville spoke up.

"S-so, um, how have you been?"

Lenore smiled at him once again. Merlin, she was full of smiles today. "You make it sound like we haven't talked in months."

"I-it's been... a little bit."

"A week," she teased.

Neville searched his brain. "Oh. Y-you're right."

"Anyway, I'm doing great. I just can't get this patronus. Did you actually want to help or did Harry force you?"

"I-I want to help," he said. "A-as long as you want m-me to help."

"I do," she grinned. "So, you can help me with this?" She gestured to her wand.

"Y-yeah," he said, "Harry showed me the trick last week. I was rubbish at it, too. Let me see you try it."

Lenore closed her eyes and focused herself. Neville watched her long eyelashes flutter as she searched her brain and went to her happy place. After a moment, she announced, "Expecto patronum!"

Her wand let out a tiny spark of blue light, which quickly fizzed out. She stomped her foot. "That's the best it's ever been."

"Okay," Neville said slowly. "What memory are you using? Is it strong enough?"

"I'm thinking about back when I went to a muggle school and we would have parties at the roller skating rink and dance to cheesy music."

Neville blinked. "And that's a strong memory?"

"Yeah," she said sheepishly. "I... I don't know what else to use."

"Do you have a powerful memory with your family, maybe?"

Lenore hesitated. "What memory do you use?"

"Oh, um, I tried using an actual memory, but it wasn't working."

Neville got even quieter than he already was. He stepped slightly closer to her and whispered, "B-but then Harry told me he thought of his parents talking to him. He doesn't even know if it is a real memory. So… so I think of a photo of my parents that I saw as a kid. Of them laughing. B-because I... don't actually remember them laughing."

Lenore clearly had no idea what to say. She stared up at him, straight into his eyes, her soul beating down on his soul as her lips parted. He had never discussed his parents in front of her before, so her shock was understandable. She touched her hand to his forearm for just the briefest second, but Neville felt every electrifying pulse of her fingers rush up his skin and to his brain.

"That's a really good memory."

"Y-yeah," he whispered. "I-I think so. I-it works."

She gave him a soft smile, but he could see the worry behind her eyes. "I don't have anything like that to use."

"You don't have anything really happy or hopeful?"

She shook her head.

"What about something sad? What's the saddest moment of your life?"

She thought a moment. "I... I don't want to say. It's dumb compared to yours, I-"

"It's not dumb," he whispered. "I promise you. We're not in competition. Whatever made you feel sad, made you feel sad. It's a personal thing. You don't have to tell me. Just think it."

She nodded. "Now what?"

"Now, think about how you overcame the sadness. How it made you feel to be happy again."

He fell silent as Lenore stared at the ground. Her face contorted into worry, which made him sad. He did not want her to feel down, but it was necessary to conjuring a strong patronus. Feel the bad, then the good will feel even better.

"A-are you ready?"

She still stared at the ground. "Yeah."

"Okay, now hold your wand out with force. Thrust it out there. Good, practice that a few times."

Lenore did as he said. He watched her focus all her energy into her arm and out the wand.

"Now, think of your memory. Really think of it. Where does it take place? Who is there with you? How did it make you feel? When you're ready, open your eyes, thrust your wand, and shout 'Expecto patronum!'"

Lenore stood with her eyes closed for another minute. Neville could see her sucking in her cheeks and fluttering her eyelids.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A thick wisp of blue steam was released from her wand. It went about fifteen feet, and then stopped right as it seemed to be taking form.

"Neville!" she shouted. Both her hands flew to her cheeks as she dropped her wand. "Oh my god!"

Neville's shock turned into a large grin. "I knew you could do it!"

"Neville!" she gasped again. He loved when she said his name. "Thank you!"

He shook his head. "It was all you."

"No," she said firmly. "You helped."

"Wow!" Harry said from across the room. "Lenore, that was fantastic! Neville, can you come here for a minute?"

Neville turned to Lenore. "It was nice talking to you."

"You too," she smiled. "I'll see you later. Thanks again."

Neville walked back to Harry with a stupid grin on his face.

Lenore glanced down at her hand. She felt powerful, like she had actually accomplished something for once. She was not the most skilled at Defense Against the Dark Arts, she was more of a Potions person, but somehow Neville helped her channel her power. She glanced back to him, watching his best mates Seamus and Dean greet him excitedly. She smiled, glad he had grown closer with Dean and Seamus the past two years. He was a shy kid and she knew it well. He was always so nervous around her, despite the fact that she considered him a friend. She always thought she scared him. It made sense. She was a Slytherin with an unfriendly resting face and a group of friends who were chatty, not the easiest for strangers to get a word in edgewise. Not to mention her Slytherin roommates, who were actually intimating.

Angelina slung her arm over Lenore's shoulder, startling her.

"Scaredy cat," she laughed.

She wrapped her other arm around Katie and gathered the two into a small circle. She beamed up at Lenore. "You know he fancies you, right?"

Lenore blinked. "What?"

"Neville. He has a crush on you."

"No!" Lenore argued. "He's just my friend."

Angelina gave Katie a sly smile. "I don't think he would say you are 'just' his friend."

She began to panic. Neville could not fancy her. That was absurd. He obviously fancied Luna Lovegood. It was so obvious. "You're full of it."

"I am no!" Angelina laughed. "I could tell you a million signs he fancies you!"

"Please do!" Lenore said.

"He is always glancing at you," Katie pitched in.

"He gets nervous around you," Angelina added.

Lenore scoffed. "He get nervous around everyone, Ang."

"It's different," Katie corrected. "He doesn't care if he says something dumb in front of me. He picks his words very carefully around you."

Angelina practically sang her words. "Don't you notice the way he looks at you when you talk to him?"

"No," Lenore said. "How does he look at me?"

"Like nothing in the world exists except you."

Lenore broke away from Angelina's hold. "I'm sure he doesn't. He just likes talking to me."

"Exactly."

Lenore shook her head. "No."

Katie had to ask. "Do you think he's cute?"

"I…" Lenore searched her brain. Neville Longbottom? Cute? She had never thought about him that way. "Is he drop dead gorgeous? No. But do I find him attractive? I mean... yeah, in a way."

Katie and Angelina gasped.

"Just because he's so nice!" she gasped. "Boys aren't normally that nice to me. And he always has something interesting to say."

Angelina grinned. "You two would be a cute couple."

Lenore crossed her arms. "That's not going to happen."

"You never know."

"What about Seamus and Katie?" Lenore said, trying to change the subject.

"Or Angelina and George?" Katie added.

"Look at us," Angelina sassed. She pulled Katie and Lenore into a hug. "All of us have guys chasing us and the self-confidence to ignore them. Go us!"

Lenore laughed, but inside she was not sure how to feel. Angelina was being ridiculous. Girls and guys could be friends without wanting to snow each other. The very idea was dumb. Neville was just a nice guy. He did not want anything from her except a friend and Lenore knew it.

Margaux Henry was a passionate girl. She took everything to the next level. An E on her OWLs could never be good enough, she strived for an O. When someone once dared her to pet Hagrid's latest creepy creature, a blast-ended skrewt, she did not just pet the animal, she took it out of it's cage and let it crawl up her arm. When Margaux sets her mind to something, she goes big. This included her work in Dumbledore's Army, in which Margaux was a devoted member.

One Wednesday night during the month of November, the DA was having its usual weekly meeting. Margaux, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood stood in the corner, practicing their patronus charms yet another week. The previous meeting ended abruptly when Harry decided he had to leave early, so Margaux did not have enough time to finish working on her patronus. Her second attempt was not going much better than the first night. She could get a wispy cloud of her wand and it was strong enough to ward off any predators, but it had not yet taken corporeal form.

As the girls practiced the spell, Neville, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan were at another end of the room not doing any work and certainly not focused on any magic. They had just finished berating Neville on his interaction with Lenore, but now Dean lost focus. He stared at Margaux, who had taken young Nigel under her arm and was helping him with his spells.

Seamus waved a hand in front of his face, then boxed Dean's ears.

"Oi!" Dean shouted as he swung lightly at Seamus. "What was that for?"

"Focus!" Seamus clapped. "Quit starin' at Mar."

Dean had liked Margaux for a couple months now. The petite blonde girl captured his heart every time she spoke to him. She was bubbly and fun, not to mention kind and smart. She was a Gryffindor, unlike her older sister Lenore. The Henry family had been Ravenclaw for generations, only to have Lenore and Margaux come along and ruin the streak. Their dad liked to say it was their muggle mother who gave them the extra spunk to get into Slytherin and Gryffindor. While Lenore was a bit more restrained, Margaux was boisterous and constantly active in all areas of life. One might even call Margaux "high strung" in comparison to her easy-going sister, but never in a negative way. Both girls played off each other's personalities so they were quite fun to be around. While Neville had a crush on the older sister, Dean had a gut-wrenching, mind-stupefying, all encompassing compassion for Margaux.

The only problem was, she did not fancy him. She did not even tolerate him. Dean was terrible at expressing his feelings, so his flirtatious advances often came across as rude jibes.

"Nah," Dean said. "I'll stare at whoever I want."

"Stare at Neville," Seamus guffawed. "Doesn't he look handsome today?"

Neville cringed.

"Bet Lenore thought you looked handsome today," Seamus nudged him.

"No," Neville flushed red. "Please stop."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "You two are insane. Can we shut up about birds for once and just focus on a different topic?"

Neville and Dean did not reply. Their eyes were both fixated on the sisters across the room. Dean could see Margaux gesturing for her sister, but he could not hear was she was saying.

"Lenore!" Margaux called.

Her sister glared over at her. "What?"

"Come here!"

"Why?"

"Just come here!"

Lenore excused herself from Angelina and Katie and made her way over to her little sister. "What?"

"Help Nigel with this spell."

"HA!" Lenore said. "I can barely do it. Neville had to help me."

"Ohhh," Margaux smiled.

"Shut up!" she nudged her little sister. Margaux could see her blush. "A boy can be nice to me without fancying me. But, hey, you know who does fancy you? Dean."

Margaux made a face. "Shut up, no he doesn't."

"It's true!" Lenore said. "I heard him talking about it."

"You are such a liar," Margaux said. "He's an asshole to me."

"It's all a cover," Lenore grinned. "It's an act. I can see right through stuff like that."

Margaux plugged her ears. "LA LA LA, WHO CARES ABOUT HIM."

"Okay!" Lenore laughed, forcing Margaux's arms down from her ears. "But he's literally looking at you right now."

Margaux searched around the room for Dean. Sure enough, they made eye contact for a split second.

Dean tried to play it off like he was casually looking around.

"Fuck," Dean said. "She's looking at me. That means they're talking about me. I knew Lenore heard you morons talking about Margaux the other day."

Seamus laughed. "Mate, it was you talking about her. All we did was ask questions to keep the conversation going."

His heart thumped out of his chest. He was being stupid, he knew. Margaux was gorgeous and kind. Even bloke in the school wanted her. Her friendliness and charm was often mistaken for flirting and it often got her into awkward situations. Blokes just don't understand that basic human kindness does not mean she wanted a snog, and Dean knew it. Margaux was outgoing, unlike her sister. Lenore was introverted and not as emotional as Margaux. Lenore could not be swayed by emotions (either hers or anybody else's), but emotions ran Margaux's life. She was a Gryffindor, for sure.

Meanwhile, Margaux was still arguing with Lenore.

"Whatever," Margaux said. "All that matters is that he annoys me, so no thanks."

"ALRIGHT!" Harry announced. "Everybody circle up!"

The group surrounded Harry and he stood on top of a wooden box, looking out over the crowd.

"We're finished with the patronus charm for today. Let's review Expelliarmus. I'll partner you up."

Harry pointed out pairs of people at random, although partially attempting to partner people with someone they were not friends with.

"Dean, Margaux," he pointed.

Dean's eyes shot over to Neville and Seamus. Their two faces were a mixture of panic and elation.

"Everyone, stand across from your partner," Harry said. "We're going to practice the disarming spell one more time before we break for the night."

Margaux smiled wickedly at Dean. He felt his heart pang. They faced each other and on Harry's command, Dean shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Margaux's wand shot out of her hand. As it clattered to the floor, she stomped her foot and yelled, "Who decided you got to go first?"

Dean got a smug look on his face. "I wasn't aware either of us was going first. I thought this was a competition."

Margaux picked up her wand. "You arsehole!"

"You know you like competition!"

She glared at him. Dean wished he could be more like Neville. He was always so nice to Lenore, so shy and thoughtful. When he was around Margaux, Dean blurted out every stupid thing he could think of and for some reason, his mind always jumped to challenging her. It drove him crazy and he wished he could stop. Margaux would never understand that he was flirting. She had not understood it for all the months he fancied her.

"So," she said, "we go at the same time and see who's more powerful?"

"Exact-"

"Expelliarmus!" Margaux shouted, knocking Dean's wand on the ground.

Dean dove down for his wand and quickly returned to his feet. Again, he shouted the spell, but Margaux managed to dodge it. She shot at him and he ducked, then returned fire. The playful fight escaped faster than Dean realized. There they were, running about the room laughing and tumbling in between their loud incantations. Nobody else in the room was as lively as them. Those around them gave curious glances as to what made the pair so rowdy.

"Dean!" Margaux!" Harry said. "You're going to hurt somebody!"

At that exact moment, Margaux shouted the spell with all her might. The force sent Dean flying back and into a bookcase. Several books toppled onto him, one giving him a nasty gash across his forehead.

"Merlin…" Harry said, rubbing his temples.

Margaux ran over to Dean. She picked the books off him as Dean's entire body throbbed.

"Dean! Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, as his forehead poured out blood, "I'll be fine."

"I'm so sorry!" Margaux gushed. "I don't know what happened!"

"It's okay," he said. "Really, I feel fine."

He took the hand Margaux was holding out and stood up. As soon as he was upright, he began to sway wildly. Margaux had to catch him from meeting the ground once more. Harry arrived with a small hand towel to wipe up Dean's wound. By this point, blood had dripped all the way down to his neck.

"He needs to go to the hospital wing," Harry said. "Can somebody take him?"

"We got him, mate," Seamus said, gesturing to himself and Neville.

"Let me take him!" Margaux said. "It's all my fault!"

"You can come with us," Seamus said. "You hold that cloth to his forehead, we'll help him walk."

Margaux gave a short nod. Her face was filled with worry as she pressed the towel securely to his head. They made sure the coast was clear and then started their trek to the hospital wing in silence. After some time, Margaux began to sniffle. She was being dumb. Dean would be fine. It would be okay. After a second sniffle, she made eye contact with Neville.

"Are… are you crying?" he asked gently.

"No," Margaux said, as she tried to disguise the crack in her voice.

Seamus looked at her carefully. "But you are."

"What's wrong?" Neville said.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I feel so bad. I didn't mean to hurt him."

"It's okay, Mar," Dean mumbled. His eyes seemed to be glazed over and his head had rolled back.

"Sometimes I get so caught up in things that I forget how competitive I am," she said. "I don't like causing people to get hurt."

Dean's eyes were closed at this point. Neville wasn't sure whether Dean could hear Margaux, so he replied for him. "It's okay, Margaux, really. He understands. And he would feel the same way if he had hurt you. Worse, actually. He'd be a mess."

Margaux nodded. "O-okay. Thank you."

Seamus opened the double doors and almost immediately Madame Pomphrey, the school healer, let out a gasp. "What did you do to him?" she screeched. "He looks to have more blood outside his body than inside!"

The three exchanged a nervous glance. Margaux spoke up quickly. "I was in the library, putting my books away, and Dean offered to shelve the books for me. Very kind of him, actually. As he was using magic to put one on the very top shelf, he got distracted and the book came tumbling down onto his face."

"Oh my," Madame Pomphrey sighed. "Keep his head elevated. Have him sit up straight on that bed."

Seamus and Neville helped Dean into bed as Margaux kept a tight hold on his head. Madame Pomphrey returned a short minute later with a few bottles of blood-replenishing potion. She took the towel away from his forehead and cleaned the wound.

"It's better than I expected," she assured the noticeably nervous Margaux. "I can fix the wound right now and he'll be out of here within an hour."

"Would you mind staying with him, Margaux?" Seamus asked. "We've got a lot of homework, including a nasty potions essay due tomorrow."

Neville's eyes grew wide.

"Of course!" Margaux said. "I'll walk him back to the tower."

"Thanks, doll. We appreciate you. So does Dean."

Seamus shoved Neville towards the door and the second the double doors slammed shut, Neville cried, "Potions essay! When did Snape assign that?"

"Shut up, ya ninny," Seamus hushed him. "There is no essay. Don't you think Dean would like a little private time with Margaux?"

Realization swept over Neville. "Ohh. Wow. You're a genius."

"He needs time to charm the little lass. And even better, we won't be there to hear all the mushy shit."

Neville thought a moment. "I never really got the impression she fancied him until she started crying just now."

Seamus grabbed Neville's arm and shook it. "I KNOW! Dean's gonna be thrilled. She might not fancy him, but she definitely cares about him."

"Oh yeah, definitely" Neville said.

"Maybe next week Lenore can injure you," Seamus joked. "Maybe that'll speed things up a bit."

Neville rolled his eyes.

About forty-five minutes later, Madame Pomphrey released Dean from the hospital. He was still a little loopy, so Margaux held him steady by the arm as they returned to the dormitories. She really hoped he was doing alright. She felt so bad for hurting him.

"I'm sorry, again," she said.

"No," he slurred, "everything is okay."

Margaux smiled. "Are you embarrassed about being bested by a book?"

"Next time, I'll beat the living daylights out of that book," he smiled. His amusement quickly turned into a drug induced glee. "You're so pretty, Margaux."

Margaux squinted. "Okayyy, thanks, Dean. You're pretty, too."

"Thank you!" he said. "I know!" His eyes were closed and his smile was wide. As they turned the corner, he rammed his shoulder into the wall.

"Oh, pardon me, miss," he said politely to the wall. He reached up and tipped the imaginary hat on his head. Margaux tried to stifle her laughter. He was an arse to her, but an amusing arse. Margaux knew he was never truly being mean when he was rude to her. He was just difficult and stubborn. She did not hate him, despite what he thought. The last time he accused her of hating him, she agreed with him. She instantly regretted it. She stared up at him for a moment, at his dark brown eyes, his curly hair, and his arm slung around her. Dean was annoying, but she did not hate him. The pair walked in silence until they reached the Gryffindor entrance.

"So," Dean turned to Margaux, "ya come here often?"

Margaux gave him a confused look. "I live here."

"I'm practicing my chat-up lines," he smiled.

"It wasn't very good," she laughed.

"You don't think so?"

"No, not at all."

Dean stared at her a moment. "You're so pretty, Mar."

"You've mentioned that," she smiled. "And you better stop mentioning it before I punch you."

She noticed how dangerously close she was so Dean's face. His lips were mere centimeters from hers.

"You don't want me to call you pretty?"

"No," she said firmly.

Dean nodded. "I won't. You're more than pretty, though, Mar. You're you."

Her lips parted. _You're you_. Holy shit, that was probably the most romantic thing a bloke had ever said to her. She shook her head. This was Dean. He was going to end with a joke or an insult. He did not actually think she was pretty.

"You don't want to kiss me?" he whispered.

"I..."

Her eyes flickered between his eyes and lips. "If you don't want me to, say no."

Margaux was silent. She could not get her brain to work. Her mouth was not connected to her brain. No. No, she could say 'no' if she wanted. The thing is, she did not want to say no. She had never actually kissed a bloke before. It sounded stupid. She was fifteen and had never kissed a boy. Apparently that was normal, but she was teased for it by her friends. The truth is, she was scared. She just wanted one kiss, just to get over the fear. One kiss, from a nobody. That nobody would be Dean.

He was so, so close to her and she could feel his hot breath. He smelled like electric mint.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Do it."

His lips met hers and her stomach unfurled from its knot. He tasted sweet and minty and he made her brain buzz. She kissed him once, then he leaned away slowly. Their eyes met for a split second, then he pressed a finger to Margaux's nose.

"Bop," he said, with a flick of his wrist.

Margaux's mouth dropped open. She was stunned. She was not sure if Dean knew what he was doing. He could not have. He did not know what he was doing. She shook her head. Hopefully he would not remember this in the morning.

"Margaux," Dean said. "Where is Jimmy?"

"Jimmy?" she snapped out of her daze.

"The unicorn that teaches me French! Oh, Jimmy is a cheeky lad."

This confirmed to Margaux that Dean was out of it. She brushed the kiss off as a side affect of the drugs. She guided him through the portrait hole and towards the boys dormitory stairs. "Jimmy's up there," she said with a slight shove. "But first he wants you to take a short nap."

"I'm coming Jimmy!" Dean screeched as he ran up the stairs, tripping midway, but getting right back up again. Before he continued up, he turned to face Margaux. "Jimmy would like you."

"Tell Jimmy thank you," Margaux laughed.

Dean disappeared up the stairs. Margaux sighed. That was incredibly weird.


	2. Chapter 2: December Blues

"Hey, it'll be okay, I promise."

Neville heard Lenore's voice whisper from around the corner. He stopped in this tracks. He craned his ears towards the sound. He heard someone crying, so he decided to round the corner.

Lenore sat on a bench outside in the empty courtyard. She had her arm wrapped around the tiniest kid Neville had ever seen at Hogwarts. This boy was obviously a first year, but he looked about eight years old. The boy's eyes were puffy and red. He seemed to be shaking.

Lenore looked up at Neville and gave a welcoming, but somber, half-smile. He stepped closer, nervous as could be. He rarely interacted with Lenore when other people were around. It made him more anxious, like he imagined the other people judging him. "What happened?"

Lenore stared up at Neville. He really did look concerned for the boy. "Draco and his henchmen were jinxing Robbie."

Robbie stared up at Neville, who shook his head. "Are you okay, mate?"

Robbie nodded and sniffed.

Neville glanced at Lenore, then back toward Robbie. "You know," he said, "I was bullied when I was your age, too."

"But you're a big guy," Robbie said shyly, "you could scare them off."

Lenore tried not to crack a smile. Neville really could be a scary guy if he was not so shy and sweet. Neville caught her eye and looked surprised to see her silently laughing. He flushed red and smiled softly, before turning back to Robbie.

"Why do they make fun of you?" Neville asked.

Robbie pouted. "Because I'm small."

Neville knelt down in front of Robbie, which surprised Lenore. "They made fun of me for being 'goofy' looking."

Robbie examined Neville for quite a long time. "I don't think you're goofy looking."

"And I don't think you're small," Neville said. "Malfoy and the other dummies don't know what they are talking about. They pick one thing about you and then drill it into your head that you should be ashamed of that one thing. But you don't have to be."

"I am small, though," Robbie said. "I'm eleven and I look like a toddler."

"You just haven't grown yet. I was short, too, until last year. And I'm still growing. You have nothing to worry about there."

"I don't think you're small," Lenore chimed in. "I think you're bigger than Draco and Crabbe and Goyle together, because you're a good person."

"It's worth a lot more to be a bigger person in character than in statue," Neville chimed in.

Lenore's eyes grew wide, impressed with his statement.

Robbie nodded. "Thank you, Lenore. And whoever you are."

"You're welcome, Robbie," Lenore said, giving him a quick squeeze. "If you have any more trouble, let me or Neville know. I'm sure he can help, too."

"I will," Robbie said. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, got up, and walked away.

Neville stood up from the ground. He hesitated for an uncomfortable amount of time. Finally, Lenore laughed. "Sit down."

He nodded and kept his eyes on the ground as he sat on the bench next to Lenore. She curled her legs into her chest and angled her body towards him. "Hi."

"H-hi," he exhaled a bit of laughter. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she replied, like she always do. Neville always asked her how she was. It was a bit awkward, but it got him talking. Neville just needed warmed up, then he could talk to her for a long time without stammering. It just took her a long time to get him to that point. Their best conversation ever was in the library last month, on her birthday. She got him chatting about anything and everything, which surprised her. She did not see Neville very often, maybe once a week, but she enjoyed their time together. He was a funny guy when he got warmed up.

"How did you stop Malfoy?" he asked.

"I have my ways," she smiled. "Mostly threatening to jinx him or spilling his secrets I've heard from the other Slytherin girls."

Neville nodded. "You've got secrets on him?"

"Why, you want to hear some?" she giggled.

"No! I don't have to."

She leaned in closer to him. "One time he snogged my roommate Blair's friend and he made her call him 'daddy.'"

Neville cringed as Lenore laughed. "I know you won't tell," she smiled.

"I-I won't," he promised. "That's... weird."

"He's got a daddy complex," she smiled. "That's not even the worst thing I have on him."

"No?"

"Nope."

She remained silent, so Neville laughed. "Do you have gossip on a lot of people?"

She shrugged. "People tell me things because the know I won't tell. I'm very trustworthy."

"I'd tell you my secrets," he smiled.

"I'd tell you mine, if I were trusting," she said. "I'm more trustworthy than trusting."

He nodded. "I understand. What I don't understand is why Malfoy is going after kids. Eleven years old? He's sixteen. You'd think there'd be an eleven year old bully already doing his job for him."

"Malfoy's just the worst."

"I can't believe he is still going after kids like this."

"Oh," Lenore said, "he loves it. I understand picking on kids your own age, but younger? That's just evil."

Neville's voice quieted. "I don't even understand picking on kids your own age."

Lenore's lips parted. She remembered how badly Draco had gone after Neville when they were kids. Draco would still attack him every so often and it hurt her heart.

"I'm sorry, Neville," she said. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," he smiled faintly. "S-sorry, I-I didn't mean to i-insinuate t-that you d-did, I..."

He shook his head. He had returned to his previous nervous state. He had been doing really well talking to her. Not a single stammer in at least seven sentences. He picked his head up and met her gaze. "Were you ever bullied as a kid?"

Lenore bit her lip and nodded. Then, she made a face. "Well, I got nasty comments sometimes, but nothing like you got from Draco."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I never had one bully picking on me relentlessly, like Draco did to you. I would get rude comments from complete strangers. People told me I was fat. And of course that ugly pair of glasses I used to wear."

"I don't remember you ever being 'fat.'" he said. "And there's nothing wrong with glasses."

"Well, it made me change a lot of my appearance. I lost weight and started wearing contacts. I don't get the comments about being ugly, but I do get comments about being a bitch."

"People think you are a… bitch?"

"It's because I'm in Slytherin. And because I'm not horrifically terrible-looking. This is going to sound very rude, and it's not always true, but... a lot of Slytherin girls are vain. They think they're prettier than they actually are. I think everyone needs body confidence. I'm not knocking taking pride in yourself. But when you act like you're the hottest thing on the planet, that gets annoying. It's not pride, it's narcissism and they use it as a tool to be cruel to people who they think are below them. Their narcissism feeds the meanness. And people think I'm like that."

Neville nodded. "I-I've noticed that. And I understand what you mean. It's not body confidence because it's not real. They... they don't love themselves, they love feeling superior. That sounds really mean, but... I don't know. I'm agreeing with you."

"I get you. You're completely right."

"Some girls in there are very cruel, especially to each other."

Lenore nodded her head and sighed. "They try to make each other feel ugly and worthless. Not all of them though! There's two dorms of girls my year. My dormitory is nice. But the other dormitory is full of mean girls. Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, all them. Pansy's crew."

"I thought Pansy roomed with you?"

"She does," Lenore smirked. "Ooo, she absolutely hates it. She wishes she could be with the other girls, instead of us."

Neville smiled. "I-I never liked Pansy."

"I don't hate her. She's perfect tolerable sometimes. You just have to stay on her good side. She-" Lenore gasped. "Shit. She bullied you, didn't she?"

Neville nodded and stared at his hands. "But it's okay! You don't have to hate her just because of me. If she's nice to you, i-it doesn't matter."

Lenore shook her head. "It does matter. You matter."

Neville's lips parted and Lenore could see have visible shocked he was. Had nobody told him that before? "I stay on her good side just because she sleeps in the bed next to me. She's misunderstood and she's had a hard life, but that's not an excuse. It's different, too. She tries to bully me but it doesn't work. I mean, it worked when I was younger. She used to tease me about what I ate, so I stopped eating junk food. But now I would tell her to fuck off or tease her back. It's been a journey."

Neville finally looked up at her. "I'm trying to get to the point I could tell them to fuck off."

"You can," she whispered. "One day. It just takes time. Sometimes you have to love yourself before you can tell people you hate them."

Neville was quiet, then he laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"T-that was kind of eloquent, in a way."

Lenore giggled. "Thanks. Do you realize how much these comments from bullies shaped our lives?"

Neville nodded. "I would be a different person."

"I don't want that to happen to kids like Robbie. All these kids Draco and his friends pick on are so sweet. I don't want them to hate themselves, because there is no reason for it. Like you said, bullies pick your greatest weakness and never stop bothering it. And you try to change for them, but the feeling never goes away."

"People hurt themselves to prevent a bully from hurting them."

Neville watched as Lenore's eyes fell to the floor. She bit the insides of her cheeks. "Yeah, I um, I know a few people who have hurt themselves because of things said to them."

"I think everybody knows someone."

Lenore looked back up at Neville. "You are really good with kids," she said in an attempt to change the subject.

"Really?" he asked. "I think I'm rubbish."

"No," she said, "I like that you talked to that kid like he's an adult. A lot of people treat kids like they're stupid."

"I agree."

She smiled. "So where's Dean and Seamus? Aren't you three inseparable?"

"Oh," he cringed. "I don't know. Kind of. They're all jumping in the Black Lake."

"Margaux is doing that!" she said. "Completely stupid if you ask me."

He nodded. "T-that's why I'm here instead of there."

"Lenore!" a voice called from behind them.

Cho Chang sprinted towards her, along with Lenore's roommate Odette Trujillo. Cho was more of Odette's friend, but Lenore considered her a friend in small doses.

When the the girls saw Neville, they slowed down. "Oh, sorry!" Cho said. "We can tell you later."

"No," Neville said as he stood up at once. "Go ahead. I was just leaving."

Lenore looked surprised at Neville. Was he bored with their conversation?

"Bye, Lenore," he said.

"Bye, Neville," she said quietly, still wondering why he left so abruptly.

 **.**

It was a chilly December evening on the Black Lake. Margaux, Luna, Ginny, and a few other students had made their way up to a rocky cliff high above the lake. The annual Polar Bear Run was about to commence. Each wintertime, after temperatures reached the negative scale, a gang of students braved the frigid water of the Black Lake and made a running jump from the cliff to the lake below. This is Margaux's first year attempting the run, but Luna was already an expert.

"Oh, you'll just love this!" Luna cooed to Margaux and Ginny.

Ginny was hesitant. She had a slight fear of heights. Margaux, on the other hand could not be more excited.

"What does the cold water feel like?" she asked Luna. "Does it hurt?"

"Hurt? Why of course not! It only feels like a few thousand needles gently poking you."

Ginny's eyes grew three sizes. "I'm not sure I can do this."

"You can!" Margaux said, shaking Ginny's shoulders. "But if you don't want to, you don't have to. We won't hold it against you."

When the group arrived on top of the cliff's plateau, they were greeted by Colin Creevey.

"Hey guys!" he said. "You want a drink?"

"Sure!" Ginny said.

Colin led them over to the drinks by the clearing of trees. Dean and Seamus were sitting on a rock about ten feet away. As soon as Dean spotting Margaux, he made his way over to the group and said hello. Seeing him immediately caused Margaux to panic. It was the first time she had seen him since they kissed. She examined his face. He did not seem to even remember. She smiled to herself and decided to play it cool. She had no feelings whatsoever for Dean, especially after his sloppy kiss. She had only kissed one bloke so far, but she knew that was not what kissing was supposed to be. It was much too wet.

"Aren't you missing a member of your squad?" Margaux asked after seeing only Seamus near by.

Dean topped off his glass with a strong, sweet smelling liquor. "Neville said, and I quote, 'It's cold outside and I don't want my balls receding back into my body.'"

The four fourth years laughed.

"He'd be embarrassed I said that," Dean said, taking a swig of his firewhisky. "But guess who's not here to defend himself. Where's your sister?"

"Lenore?"

"No, Rita Skeeter," Dean injected, referring to their platinum blonde hair— one natural, one definitely not.

Margaux gave him a dirty look. "Lenore wouldn't do this if someone paid her. Should you really be drinking whiskey if you're going to jump off a cliff?"

"Oh, hon, I'm not jumping," Dean said. "Do I look stupid?"

"Wait, why not?" she asked.

He laughed. "Uh, maybe because it's freezing. And dangerous. I don't need to have a bloody heart attack when I hit that water."

"It doesn't feel like a heart attack!" Luna assured him in her soft voice. "It merely feels like a thousand—"

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny cut her off, "'A thousand needles gently stabbing you', I got it."

Ginny clutched her stomach in fear and sat next to Colin and Seamus on the rock. Luna shrugged and joined her, leaving Margaux and Dean alone.

"It will be fun!" Margaux said.

"Ha. My idea of fun is not dying."

Margaux rolled her eyes. "It's not that dangerous."

"Wait," he said. "Are you doing it?"

"Of course!"

"No," he said, "Margaux, you can't!"

"What do you mean I can't?" Margaux said defensively.

Dean could not tell her was worried about her. Yet, he was. The jump was pretty far down and one wrong move could land a person too close to a group of rocks a little off to the left of the target. Not to mention the freezing water temperature and the depth of the murky water.

"Do you not see how risky this is?" he said.

Margaux thought a moment. "Alright," she said, "if I can't jump, you have to."

"You can't be serious."

"Come on, Dean! Strip that shirt off and take a running leap!"

Dean looked from the crazy blonde girl to the freezing cold lake about forty feet below them. He could not let her jump. If something happened to her, he would not be able to live with himself.

Dean took a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his head.

"No way!" Margaux said. "Are you really going to do it?"

"If I can stop you from jumping, I will," he said.

Margaux noticed his well-defined abs. He had muscular arms, as well. She quickly pushed the thoughts out of her mind and said, "Fine. Do it."

"I will," he said. "Come on, Seamus!"

Seamus looked up from his drink. Within five seconds, he ripped his shirt over his head and yelled, "LET'S GO, MATE!"

Dean and Seamus jumped around to hype themselves up and finally took a running jump off the edge of the cliff. A few others cheered and joined them in hurdling themselves off the plateau.

"You ready, Ginny?" Luna asked.

Ginny looked down towards the water. "I guess," she said.

She slowly took Luna's hand and joined her and Colin in the flight down to the water. Only Margaux and a couple other weenies remained. Margaux craned her neck down to the lake below. She saw Dean and Seamus bobbing in the water.

"FUCK!" Dean kept repeating. "IT'S FUCKING COLD!"

"MAN, I FEEL SO ALIVE!" Seamus shouted as he bear hugged Dean.

Margaux laughed and shook her head. Sometimes Seamus and Dean were a little too close. The bros swam to the shore and decided to run back up the cliff to warm up.

"How was it?" Margaux asked when Dean returned.

"Horrifying," Dean said. "Scariest thing I've ever done."

"It looked fun."

"IT WAS!" Seamus yelled.

Dean shook his head. "You're not missing much."

"You're right," she said, "because I'm going to do it."

Seamus cheered her on. She started running towards the cliff when Dean grabbed her hand.

"Wait!" he said. "What happened to our deal?"

Margaux laughed. "If you think I'll let any man tell me what to do—"

"Alright, fine," Dean said, "but let me jump with you."

Margaux shrugged. "Let's do it."

Dean took a deep breath. He could not believe he was about to do this for a second time. This was by far the stupidest thing he had ever done. But the way Margaux's light green eyes sparkled was so inviting he could not resist saying yes. He squeezed her hand tighter and took off to the edge of the cliff. Margaux screamed the entire way down and only fell silent when her body hit the freezing cold water. "Cold" does not even begin to describe the feeling. It was so frigid, it almost felt warm. Her body went numb as she floated to the surface. She reached the surface and gasped for air.

"DEAN!" she laughed. "IT'S SO COLD."

"I FUCKING KNOW," he said. "LET'S GET OUT OF HERE."

The pair swam to shore and again ran up the cliff. When they got back, Luna put a gentle warming spell on them to expel the possibility of hypothermia.

"I can't believe you did it twice," Margaux smiled as they sat down on the rock.

Dean gave her an amused look. "I wouldn't have had to if you weren't a liar."

She laughed. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Dean said. "I don't know what I expected. You always do whatever you want anyways."

"I don't let anyone tell me what to do," Margaux said.

"I know," he smiled.

"Are you guys still freezing your balls off?" Seamus said as he took a seat next to them. "Because I'm starting to think Neville was right."

"Yeah," Margaux said, pretending to look down her pants, "mine are totally gone!"

Seamus nearly choked with laughter. "That's the best joke I've heard all week, Henry."


	3. Chapter 3: Speed Dating with Cheaters

"HOW MANY OF YOU LADS WANT A DATE THIS VALENTINE'S DAY?" George shouted from atop the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

A few first years, who were still not used to the Weasley twins' antics, peered up from their textbooks. The older boys kept their heads down, not wishing to be a part of what was sure to be a experiment of humiliating proportions. But as George continued talking, it became evident that no studying would be done in study hall today.

George jumped over backpacks and notebooks and pointed to little fourth year Colin Creevy, whose wide eyes grew even wider than usual.

"Colin! My man!" George announced. "How would you like a date for Valentine's Day?"

"I-if you're asking me to be your date," Colin stammered, "I'm going to have to say no."

The table roared with laughter as George feigned amusement. "No, Creevy, I'm not asking you. BUT WITH THE HELP OF WEASLEY AND JOHNSON—"

"Johnson and Weasley," Angelina corrected.

"Yes, yes, fine," George waved her off. "WITH THE HELP OF JOHNSON AND WEASLEY DATING SERVICES, I GUARANTEE YOU A DATE WITH A PRETTY GIRL."

"Have you gone mad?" Ginny hissed. "Get off the table!"

Angelina Johnson shook her head and climbed on the table next to George. "Alright, look guys. And girls. George and I have this idea for a speed dating service on Valentine's Day evening. You fill out a love-match questionnaire a week prior and on the 14th you go on three quick dates with your matches. It's fun, commitment free, and something to do rather than sit in your dormitory and cry because you don't have a date."

A few people showed their interest by gently nodding.

"I'm going to hand out questionnaires to everyone. If you'd like to participate, and I hope everyone will, just hand the paper back to me or George by the end of the period," Angelina said.

She started to climb down from the table, when she stopped and said "Oh! And by the way, there will be people from other Houses participating, so you'll see some fresh faces."

"Also," George added, "we won't pair you up with anybody more than a year older or younger than you so you won't look like a creep."

"That's reassuring," Margaux muttered to Ginny under her breath.

"Are you going to do it?" Ginny asked her best friend, as Angelina handed her a questionnaire.

Margaux looked over the questions on the sheet of paper.

 _"If you weren't in your current House, which House would you want to be in?"_

 _"What class is your favorite?"_

 _"Who was your hero as a child?"_

The game seemed harmless enough. "I think I will," she said. "What could go wrong?"

"That's what people say right before something goes wrong," Ginny said.

At the other end of the table, Dean, Seamus and Neville reluctantly stared at the sheet of paper. Seamus immediately tore his up.

"What are you doing?" Dean yelled as Seamus threw the pieces of paper in his direction. "Don't you see what could happen?"

Seamus furrowed his eyebrows. "This is just another stupid game the girls have created to control us men. Valentine's Day isn't a real holiday, mate."

"Seamus, you are a moron," Dean said.

"Why?"

"Because," Dean hissed, "you could be matched with Katie."

Seamus thought this over.

"Weasley!" he called. "I need a new paper."

George made his way over with another sheet, giving Seamus a look when he noticed the paper confetti Seamus had sprinkled the table with.

"Are you going to fill it out, Longbottom?" Seamus asked.

Neville thought a moment. "I guess. What else do I have to do that night?"

Seamus gasped "What if you're matched with Lenore?"

"Don't jinx it, mate!" Dean said. "Now one of you go over and read Margaux's paper and tell me what answers she wrote down.

"Are you really going to rig the results?" Neville asked.

"I need a date with her!" Dean argued. "And it's not rigging the results. It's making the results work in my favor."

"That is the definition of 'rigging'," Neville said.

Dean rolled his eyes. He got up from his seat and walked to the other end of the table where Ron was sitting across from Margaux.

"Ron!" he schmoozed. "How ya doin' today, mate?"

"Hey, Dean!" Ron said, shaking his mate's hand.

Dean squeezed himself between Margaux and a third-year girl who he faintly recalled seeing before. His eyes darted over to Margaux's paper.

"What do you think of this speed dating nonsense?" Dean asked.

"I'm not going to do it," Ron said. "Neither is Harry."

Dean continued to read Margaux's paper when Ron was not looking at him. "Yeah, it'll be a real crazy event. But I'm still going to do it."

Margaux glared up at him. "Why are you screaming? Ron is two feet away."

"Sorry, princess," Dean scoffed. "I'll just go."

"See ya, mate," he directed at Ron. As soon as Dean stood up, he cringed. He had not meant to sound rude, but he had basically just called Margaux a brat. " _That'll get her to fancy me_ ," Dean thought.

But he still filled out the questionnaire with her exact answers and submitted it to Angelina.

It was a cozy Valentine's Day evening in the Gryffindor common room. The room was glittering with pink and red decorations, including an enchanted Cupid-shaped fountain in the middle of the floor that sparkled gold and pink and shot hologram arrows into the air every so often. Angelina had recruited Lenore and Katie to help her dress up the common room before the speed dating event started. Tables for two were placed around the room as roughly fifty people from every House milled about near the entrance. Colorful advertisements for the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes business venture were strategically placed around the room.

"I want to be clear," Fred had told Lenore earlier in the evening as they were decorating, "I in no way endorse this. Unless it makes us money. Then if anyone asks it was my idea."

At a little past 7pm, Angelina stood up on a chair and ushered the crowd to grow quiet.

"I want to start off by saying this is not an officially sanctioned event and technically McGonagall doesn't know we're doing this, so don't go around telling her. And especially not Umbridge," Angelina said. "But with that out of the way… WELCOME TO SPEED DATING!"

"Sponsored by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!" George interjected. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes… we'll take care of your pranking needs!"

Fred started off the cheering and the rest of the crowd joined in. Angelina continued explaining the rules.

"The way this works is we'll hand you a card with your name on it. Boys, your card will have three numbers on it, which correspond to the table number you'll be sitting at. Girls, your card only has one number, because you'll stay there the entire night and the boys come to you. Boys, listen carefully: the top number on your card is the first round, the middle number is the second round, and the last number is the third round. A round is ten minutes, during which you sit at a table and get to know one another. There are some sample questions at each table. Remember, this is supposed to be a fun, light-hearted evening, so leave your drama at the door or I'll kick you out the door," Angelina threatened.

"Okay, girls, take your place!"

The girls milled about, looking for their tables. Margaux was at Table 18, right next to Lenore at Table 19.

"Hey!" Lenore said. "Eighteen is your lucky number!"

Margaux laughed. "Somehow, I have a feeling nobody will be getting lucky tonight."

She motioned over at the group of nervous boys at the entrance.

"Boys! The first round begins as soon as you take your seats!"

Anthony Goldstein took a seat with Lenore while Colin Creevy sat at Margaux's table. They made light conversation, asking the questions at the table as well as questions about life and school. Colin and Margaux were friends, so the conversation was not too awkward. Lenore was pretty sure Anthony had a crush on her friend Alicia Spinett, as she had seen them hanging out every so often. She asked him if he had talked to Alicia recently and all he could do was stammer that he had not, but he would like to. Lenore said she would relay the comment to Alicia.

Neville had a rather bumbling conversation with Lavender Brown. She seemed more interested in talking about herself than listening to him, so he spent a majority of the ten minutes sitting in silence while she gabbed on and on. Dean was thankful Padma Patil was the same way, as he did not like her very much. He was happy to let her run her mouth.

After ten minutes, Angelina stopped the timer and instructed the boys to find their new table. Neville read his card and searched for his next table. When he finally found Table 18, he was greeted by a nod from Margaux Henry.

"Hey," she said.

He glanced over at Lenore, who was already having a lively conversation with that prat Oliver Rivers from Ravenclaw.

"Hi, Margaux," he said.

Margaux started out chatting away. Neville would engage her by nodding or replying "Oh really?", but his mind was not really focused. As pretty as Margaux was, he did not want to be compatible with that sister, he fancied the other one. Neville answered all her questions and even managed to crack one quip, but Margaux could tell he was distracted.

"Are you feeling okay?" she waved her hand in front of his face.

Truth be told, Margaux was too outgoing for Neville. She was constantly talking and bouncing around and laughing, which are great qualities, he just preferred Lenore's more reserved personality. Dean, on the other hand, loved Margaux's bubbly personality. She put him at ease and made him feel comfortable around her. Margaux always had something interesting to say or some fun game to play, even though she could be cold to Dean if he tried anything.

"I'm fine," Neville replied to Margaux. "Did you have any pets as a child?"

Neville's eyes flashed over to Lenore. She seemed to be enjoying her time with Oliver. Margaux talked about her four dogs and the illegal mini dragon she once owned for the rest of the date.

"Last round!" Angelina announced.

Neville shook Margaux's hand and moved on to his next table, with a girl named Leanne Kuang who he knew was acquaintances with Lenore.

Dean and Margaux made eye contact.

"Table eighteen?" he grinned.

"Table eighteen," she motioned to the seat in front of her.

Dean took a seat in the rickety oak chair and clasped his hands on top of the table. "So, what brings you here?"

"I was born here at this table," Margaux said. "I grew up here. And I've waited 15 years for you to show up here. It's about time."

"Oh, there's that Henry sarcasm," Dean smiled brightly.

Margaux was a bit taken aback every time he smiled. It made him a thousand times more attractive. She pushed that thought from her mind and said "It's what we do best."

"Really though," Dean said, "why did you want to try speed dating?"

"It seemed fun," she shrugged.

Dean faked a loud sneeze. "Sorry," he said, "I'm allergic to your bullshit."

Margaux crossed her arms and leaned back. "Well this conversation didn't start out bad, but you just ruined it."

"I'm sorry," Dean said. "I don't know why I always do that."

"I don't know either, because when you're just being yourself, you're not half-bad. But when you're doing this fake act to impress me, you're a real ass."

Dean knew why he liked to piss Margaux off. When she was mad, she actually paid attention to him. But he did not say that.

"Okay, I'm sorry, let's change the subject," he said.

"Alright," she grinned. "What's your most embarrassing moment?"

"Woah," he threw his hands up. "That's very personal for the first question."

She shrugged. "You said to change the subject."

Dean thought a moment. Truth be told, his most embarrassing moment was when he accidentally told Seamus and Neville about his crush on Margaux. It was in their dormitory late at night before Harry and Ron had turned in to bed. Earlier that day, they had each placed a bet on which quidditch team would win— Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Neville and Seamus selected the winner, Hufflepuff, while Dean had mistakenly put his trust in the brainiacs to take home the gold. The loser of the bet had to swallow a small vile of Veritaserum, a powerful truth potion, that they had stolen from Snape's desk. The serum forces the drinker to answer any questions truthfully. Dean downed the tiny vile and sat back as Neville and Seamus berated him with questions.

Seamus asked "Who do you think is sexier- Snape or Umbridge?"

"Snape," Dean replied in a daze.

"What's your favorite food from the Great Hall?" Neville asked.

Seamus smacked him hard on the arm. "NEVILLE! We have a limited amount of time and you waste it on that dumbass question?"

"Sorry," Neville murmured at the same time Dean said "Pork chops."

Seamus thought a moment. "What's the grossest thing you've ever done?"

"I used Seamus' toothbush to scratch my balls," Dean said blankly.

Seamus immediately started gagging. A passerby would think him dying of a gunshot wound, as he was clutching himself and screeching.

"WHY THE RUDDY HELL WOULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT?"

"I was angry," Dean said, "because he stole that meatloaf from the dining hall and put it under my pillow."

Seamus's mood calmed down. "Classic," he said as he high-fived Neville.

"Alright," Neville continued, "Do you have a crush on anyone?"

"Brilliant!" Seamus praised his better second question.

"Margaux Henry."

Seamus and Neville both fell silent for a moment. Then, Seamus exploded with enthusiasm. "THIS IS GREAT!"

The Veritiserum was starting to wear off. It was just a small vile, enough for a few questions. Dean started to snap out of his daze.

"WE HAVE TO TELL HER!" Seamus shouted.

"Tell who what?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"Margaux! WE HAVE TO TELL HER THAT YOU LIKE HER!"

Dean jumped out of his chair. "WE ARE NOT GOING TO DO THAT. Shit, guys, is that what you asked me?"

"YEAH," Seamus said. "This is great! She's hot!"

"Seamus," Dean tried putting his hand over his friend's mouth, but failed when Seamus ducked away. "You can't tell her anything."

"This will be great! What if you start dating Margaux and Neville finally gets with Lenore? You lads would be like brother-in-laws! Now I just need a cousin of theirs and we'd all be family!"

"Harry is her distant cousin," Neville noted. "His mum is their mum's like... second or third cousin or something like that, I'm not sure. Lenore told me her mum met Harry's mum a couple times."

Seamus pretended to heave. "Or I could just marry one of Dean's sisters."

Dean punched Seamus's arm. "You're disgusting, the oldest one is ten.

"Obviously I'm not saying right now, you pervert!"

"Everybody shut up about this!" Dean announced. "Margaux doesn't need to know. And Neville." He pointed at the boy. "Don't tell Lenore, for godsakes, don't tell her. I know when you talk to her things just start slipping out of your mouth."

"You guys have kept my secret all this time, I'm not going to reveal yours," Neville said.

Dean bit his lip. He had not planned on revealing this information to Seamus and Neville until he was a bit closer to Margaux. It tarnished his reputation as "the guy who get any girl". Well, he could not get Margaux.

But Dean could not say any of that to Margaux on their speed date.

"Alright, fine," he said. "My most embarrassing moment was when I stood up on a lab stool in Potions and fell over and cracked my forehead open in front of the entire class."

"Oh my god," Margaux covered her hand with her mouth to hide a huge grin.

The rest of the date went smoothly. Dean was funny and Margaux enjoyed talking to him. When Angelina announced that the evening had ended, the pair shook hands and each wielded a warm smile. As Dean walked away from the table, he saw Neville heading his way and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Lenore turned to Margaux next to her. "That wasn't too bad," she said.

"I didn't find anyone to snog," Margaux joked.

"I'm sure Dean would take you up on that offer."

Margaux dramatically gagged multiple times and made a whiny noise that indicated Lenore should shut up. "I'm going to find Ginny," she said.

Lenore laughed and shook her head. She turned around almost ran into Neville in the aisle between tables. Her hand touched his chest for a split second, to avoid colliding with him, and he gasped.

"Sorry!" she apologized.

Neville gulped. "I-it's okay."

Lenore examined him. "So, how did your dates go?"

"Not too bad," Neville said. "What about you?"

"They were okay. I didn't find a 'love connection' but that was on purpose."

Neville asked "On purpose?"

"I didn't fill out that questionnaire truthfully," she smiled. "I filled it out with the exact opposite of what I would have really put. I just wanted to see which assholes to avoid. Margaux gave me the idea because she did the same."

Neville was extremely relieved. He was not destined to end up with the wrong sister.

"By the way, how was your date with my sister?" Lenore asked.

"Oh, um, it was nice, I guess. She's nice."

"How does it feel to be one of the 'assholes' she should avoid?" she laughed.

Neville suddenly remembered his friend. "I'm not too worried about it, but don't tell Dean."

"Why?" Lenore asked.

Neville whispered "He filled out his sheet exactly the same as Margaux's so they would get put together."

Lenore laughed loudly. "He sabotaged himself!"

Neville nodded.

"Wait!" she said. "So it's true!"

"What's true?"

Lenore smiled. "He fancies her. I knew it."

"N-no!" Neville said. "No, no, t-that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

Neville searched his brain to come up with a cover. Lenore beamed. "I knew it. I knew it! Eee! I knew it. I'm so smart."

Neville laughed, then caught himself. "L-lenore, p-please don't say anything. To either one of them. I-I p-promised D-dean. I'm so stupid, I shouldn't have said anything. I-I just blurt things out sometimes. Merlin, please don't say anything."

"I promise, I won't tell either party," she whispered. "I'm trustworthy, remember?"

He smiled softly. "I know. I trust you."

"You trust me?"

His heart beat as he nodded. "Y-you're a vault. You don't spill things like I do."

"I won't, I promise you. Also, you're not stupid."

He blinked. "What?"

"Stupid. You called yourself stupid. Don't say that."

"I-it..." He blinked again. He could not believe they were talking about this. "I-it was a s-stupid moment."

"It was a stupid moment, but that doesn't mean you're stupid. You aren't a singular moment."

His jaw dropped as she spoke. Bloody hell, she was good. Lenore could throw out wise advice like nobody's business. Neville wished he could think of half the things she told him. "W-wow. O-okay. You're right."

She smiled. "Thank you. Also, I'm still laughing. He copied her answers to get put with Margaux, but Margaux filled her sheet out with the purpose of finding the wrong guy for herself. It really is perfect."

Neville chuckled. "I-I'm not going to tell Dean. It would crush him. He thought the date went well."

"Margaux might be warming up to Dean," she said, "but it'll be like melting an iceberg with a hairdryer. I'll tell Margaux that Dean's answers were fake though."

"Thanks," Neville said.

"Neville!" Dean called from across the room. "Come here!"

"I've got to go," Neville said quietly.

"Nice talking to you!" Lenore waved goodbye. "I promise, it's our little secret."

"A-and Seamus's."

She beamed and said another goodbye and his heart did a little dance. Neville made his way over towards Dean and Seamus, who was pissed he did not get a date with Katie like Dean had suggested.

"Neville!" Seamus called. "You want to know how I spent my evening?"

He made an expressionless face and formed his hands into the shape of two mouths chattering all around his face. "Like this."

"Didn't go so well, did it?" Neville asked.

"Susan, Sally, and Odette talked my ear off the entire time."

"Odette is nice," Neville pointed out.

Seamus gave him a look.

"This seems to be a reoccurring theme of the night," Dean said. "The girls gabbing on while the boys sit around and nod."

"Hey!" Neville said. "How was your date with Margaux?"

Dean got a sly look on his face. "I think it went well. We had a pleasant conversation and she didn't try to strangle me."

"Oh wow," Seamus said, "progress."

"Yeah!" Dean said. "Maybe by the end of the term she'll actually like me."

"You just keep working at it, mate," Neville said.

"So," Seamus said, "Dean was the only one who got the results he wanted."

Dean proudly nodded. "Rigging the results worked out alright for me. Isn't that right, Longbottom?"

Neville simply said "Yep, I guess so," and tried to conceal his grin.


	4. Chapter 4: Seven Minutes in Heaven

"No, George, I'm not going over there!"

"Come on, Lenore! You'll have fun!"

The red-head shoved Lenore towards the other side of the large abandoned classroom, where a lively get-together was in progress. Fred liked to call it a "launch party" for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but in truth the party would have happened regardless. The twins did not plan parties themselves— that was Angelina's job. All of the Gryffindor quidditch team was there, along with some Ravenclaws, a few Hufflepuffs, and, unfortunately, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini, and Circe Defleur. Circe was always nice to Lenore. They were roommates after all. But she could sometimes be incredibly rude to outsiders. Lenore was not sure if Circe could tell when she was being mean, though. She was very naive at times.

Pansy, on the other hand, lived to be evil. Lenore was surprised Pansy decided to attend the party rather than report it to the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad. It probably made Pansy feel more powerful to have everyone at the party watching her, waiting for her to make a move. She was gathered in a circle with the other fifteen or so people at the party.

"Alright, everybody listen up!" George shouted as he finished pushing Lenore and Katie into the circle. Lenore noticed Fred shoving Neville and Ron on the other side of the circle. "We're going to play a little Seven Minutes in Heaven!"

Lee Jordan immediately jumped forward. "Mate, what is this, third year?"

"For your information, Lee, this game is inappropriate for third years," George rolled his eyes.

Lee put his hands up in surrender and stepped back into the crowd.

"I don't want to play this," Katie whispered.

Lenore glanced around the room at their selection of men. Seamus? She'd rather die. Blaise? Been there, done that. Harry? There will be no cousin-kissing, even if they barely knew each other. George? He was Angelina's, of course. Neville? She was conflicted. She watched him from across the room. He was wearing an olive green sweater vest. How would that work? She sensually unbuttons his sweater vest? She smiled to herself at the thought. Still, Nevile would probably be the best choice. On one hand, he would never do anything risky. On the other, he would be so nervous he would probably just hyperventilate the whole time. Lenore wanted to kiss somebody, she just did not want to go to far. Neville probably would not want to do anything.

"We've all had a bit of firewhisky, so maybe it won't be too bad," Lenore whispered.

"I just don't want Seamus," Katie said.

Lenore grimaced. "He might be too scared to actually do anything."

"True," Katie agreed.

"Boys, write your name on a piece of paper and drop it in there," George instructed the crowd.

First to pick was Circe. She pulled out Roger Davies' name and they went into the closet together. Sure enough, the door opened seven minutes later with the pair in a compromising position. Next up was Angelina, who picked George's name.

"He definitely enchanted that," Katie whispered into Lenore's ear.

However, this time the open door revealed Angelina and George standing on opposites sides of the closet, calm and collected.

Following that show, George ran back to the bag and thrust it out to Pansy. The smug look on her face quickly fell when she read the name.

"LONGBOTTOM?" she screeched.

All eyes turned to Neville.

"No," she shrieked. "I refuse!"

"Pansy," George said, "you picked Neville, so you have to go. Those are the rules."

She shrieked again. "THERE IS NO WAY I'M GOING IN THERE WITH HIM. GROSS!"

Lenore panicked. She had to do something to control her roommate. "Pansy!" she spoke up. "Stop."

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU OGRE."

"Pansy, stop throwing a fit," Blaise said cooly. The whole room was surprised to hear Blaise speak. He rarely spoke in public.

"What girl would want to kiss Longbottom? Let me pick again!" she commanded George.

"You know how this game works—"

"No," Neville cut George off. "I-it's okay, I'll just leave."

"No, mate," George said, "you don't have to."

"Yeah, Neville!" Seamus called. "Don't let the bitch win!"

Dean and Ron nodded with his words. Everyone else appeared too shocked to comment.

"I-I'm already going," Neville whispered.

Lenore watched as Neville stood up and quickly exited the room. He seemed to be shaking. The door fell with a thud back into place and Lenore was racked with guilt. She should have done more to help him. He would have done more for her.

"So, do I get to pick again?" Pansy demanded.

"No way, Parkinson," George said. "Now there's an uneven number of boys and girls."

"She can have my turn," Lenore said, standing up.

Pansy sneered at her. "Thanks so much."

Lenore stared at George. "Just make sure the poor boy that goes in the closet with her comes out alive."

He nodded knowingly. Lenore let the door slam shut behind her before she took off running in the direction she guessed Neville would go. Her heart pounded with each step. Poor Neville. He already got so much shit, this could not do anything for his already-low self esteem. Lenore wanted to strangle Pansy. Literally choke her until she fainted a little. She could not believe Pansy would be so rude. She thought the girl had matured. Pansy had calmed down a little in her older age, but this was just cruel. She tormented Neville when they were kids and tonight proved that she was still just as evil as four years ago.

Lenore finally caught sight of the boy after a few minutes.

"Neville!" she called.

He stopped in his tracks as Lenore ran toward him. She did not know what to say to him. She had not gotten that far in her plan yet. She could not stop thinking about screaming at Pansy. When Lenore was within a few feet on him, Neville turned around. It was dark, but Lenore could still see tears in his eyes. She gasped, then exhaled loudly. Her voice broke as she whispered, "Oh Nev."

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I-I'm sorry. I-I…"

His words faded away as his breathing became more rapid. He was trying to hold in a few gasps of sobs.

"Neville," she grabbed his hands as he pulled them away from his face. "Please don't believe anything she says."

He was not sure which to be more shocked by: Lenore was holding his hands, or that she had ran after him, or the fact that he had just been publicly humiliated. She called him "Nev", though, which might have been the biggest shock. Nobody had ever called him by a nickname before. Or at least a nickname that was not also an insult. The way she had said it made his heart hurt. He felt like he was being split in half. One side of him was so embarrassed that he wished Lenore would never speak to him again. The other side realized that was complete and utter nonsense and that he wanted— no, needed— her to tell him it would be okay.

"Pansy is a horrible, horrible person," Lenore continued. "You can't listen to anything she says, okay? She is dumb and mean and terrible. You are so much more than the mean things she says to you, okay?"

She realized how violently she was rattling his hands. "Sorry," she said, loosening her grip.

"Neville, I just want you to know everything she said was nonsense. You are such a great guy and I don't want any of that going to your head, okay?"

Neville noticed how many times she was ended her sentences with "okay". She was so frantic that she was not thinking before she spoke.

"You are so smart," she said, "and kind and caring. You are more than Pansy will ever be in her entire life. Please don't let her convince you that you are less than you actually are."

He nodded. In his movement, Lenore noticed a single tear coming down his left cheek. She transferred his hands into one of hers and used the other to wipe his face with her sleeve.

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped. "I-I shouldn't be crying."

"Neville, you're so much stronger than I am," she whispered with care. "If I were you, I would be bawling right now. You don't have to be embarrassed around me."

He stared into her eyes. They were wide and soft, staring at him with more concern than he had ever experienced in his entire life. He could still see their beautiful green shade in the dark, or maybe he was just imagining it.

Neville rarely cried in his life. He was not crying now because he cared about Pansy's opinion, but because he thought he had humiliated himself beyond repair in Lenore's eyes. He still felt shame, but it comforted him to know that Lenore came to help him, even after that ordeal.

"You don't have to be embarrassed around anybody really. Everybody in there is on your side. Even Blaise was trying to stop her. And I know Seamus was ready to fight someone."

Neville let out a small smile.

"I'll even close my eyes, if you don't want to cry in front of me," she grinned.

Her eyes shut tight and he let out a small laugh. "Y-you don't have to close your eyes. I-I'm calming down."

She kept her eyes close as she giggled. "Good."

After a few moments of silence, she opened her eyes and turned her gaze on him. "Are you feeling a little bit better?"

"Better than when I left," he whispered.

"Good," she squeezed his hands. He had somehow forgotten she was holding them. It almost felt natural to him, like her hands belonged with his.

"I-it was nice of y-you to come a-ffter me," Neville said, still holding back a sob.

"I know what it's like to feel the way you do now, on a much smaller scale."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Her thumbs circled the back of his palm and he desperately wanted to hug her, but he forced himself to forget that idea.

"It's a long story," she said, "but something similar happened to me in grade four. A boy I liked called me ugly in front of the whole class."

"I don't believe you were ever as ugly as you think you were."

"No," Lenore corrected, "I was. I'll have to show you a photo. Frizzy hair, crooked teeth, ugly glasses, I had it all. Not to mention being pudgy."

"Well," Neville said before he could think, "you're gorgeous now."

He felt his face immediately burn bright red. He wanted to die right then and there. Just curl up into a ball and melt onto the floor. Nobody would ever find him there.

"You really think so?" she breathed.

"Y-yes," he spoke so quietly that Lenore was not even sure he said anything at all.

"Thanks."

Neville could see her bright smile. She squeezed his hands one more time and let go. "Nobody has ever called me gorgeous."

" _You should be called gorgeous every minute of every hour_ ," Neville wanted to say. Except he did not. He simply gave a nervous smile and hoped she saw it.

"I don't know if people say this to you often enough, Neville, but you really are a handsome guy."

Neville felt a chill run though his body.

 _Lenore just called him handsome._

"N-no," he stammered, "but thank you."

"What are you saying 'no' to? That people don't call you handsome? Or do you not believe you are?"

"I, um…" he panicked. He could not think of any words to speak. He did not consider himself attractive, but he did not exactly want to tell Lenore that. What if he accidentally convinced her to take his viewpoint?

Lenore studied his face. "You are handsome," she said sweetly. "You may not think it, but I'm sure plenty of girls find you attractive. You're tall with nice hair and pretty eyes."

Neville looked down at his feet. "Lenore, I'm everything you just called ugly. Crooked teeth, pudgy…"

"You are not pudgy," she said firmly. "And your teeth aren't bad."

He did not look up from the ground.

"Nev," she said slowly, "the thing is, both of those things can be easily changed. Should you change them? No. Well, not unless you want to. But what makes you so handsome is that you genuinely care about other people. I know you're thinking 'Great, another one of those personality is more important than looks speeches', but you have to realize that your personality shows up in your appearance. People can see your sweetness in your smile or the kindness in your eyes and that's what makes you attractive."

Neville was scared to look up at her. He could not bear to see her face and he did not know why. Maybe it was embarrassment or maybe he was simply worried what she would look like. Sad? Angry? Would she look at him with that same almost loving reaction she had given him just moments before? That was the terrifying part— "almost loving". Neville knew she did not fancy him back. But something in her eyes kept him going. He felt at times that it controlled him. Still, it was not the toxic type of control. He loved it. He loved how special it made him feel to be appreciated by her.

"Neville," she said, "I'm sorry if I'm… scaring you. Or maybe that's not the rights words. I just… I think everybody should feel good about themselves, because if you can't feel good about yourself, what can you feel good about?"

Neville finally looked her in the eyes. He was not prepared for what he saw. She was so distressed that he immediately felt a pang in his heart. She desperately wanted him to believe her words. Neville got the sudden urge to hug her, but he refrained. He did not want to scare her away.

"T-thanks," he said quietly. "You didn't make me scared. N-nervous, maybe, but I'm always a little bit nervous. I-it means a lot to me that you—"

He was cut off by her hand slamming against his mouth. She placed a finger vertically over her own mouth.

"Over here, dinguses, I think I heard a noise."

The sharp voice of Draco Malfoy came from down the corridor. Lenore could feel Neville gulp under her hand. His lips were shaking. Holy shit, her hand was on his lips. He had wanted to kiss her hand, but here her fingers were, jammed against his mouth in terror. She removed her hand from his face and pulled him into an unlocked closet a few meters from them. With the tip of her wand, she tapped Neville on the head. He felt something slimy cascade down his body, but when he went to check what it was, he noticed he could not see himself. Lenore twirled her wand above her own head and disappeared. She was still present, of course, but both were now nearly invisible, blending in to their surroundings like chameleons.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" Crabbe laughed.

Lenore guessed it was about 11:30pm, way past curfew. Umbridge no doubt sent the Inquisitorial Squad out to patrol the corridors on a Friday night.

"I don't see anybody," Goyle whined.

"Look closer, you morons," Draco said. "I definitely heard noises."

The noise of doors creaking open and slamming shut got closer and closer to the closet where Lenore and Neville hid. She felt his warm breath on her neck. He was wearing a woodsy-scented cologne. Hopefully it was not strong enough for Draco or one of the idiots to smell.

The heavy footsteps drew nearer. Lenore took a step back into Neville, who closed his eyes in hopes this was all a dream. He could feel her body pressed against his left hipbone, but the fear was too much for him to enjoy it. Light flooded the closet as Crabbe opened the door. The pair stood frozen. His round head inspected every corner as he waved his wand around the room. When he shut the door, Lenore and Neville both let out the breath they had been holding.

"I didn't see anything," Goyle said.

"Me neither," Crabbe said.

"Whatever," Draco said. "Let's go patrol the Gryffindor corridor, maybe catch some of them out and about."

Crabbe and Goyle's laughs faded out as they walked off. When the coast was clear, Neville whispered "Blimey, that was close."

"I'll say," Lenore said, stepping away from Neville. "Sorry I smacked you. I didn't mean to do it that hard."

"It's fine, you saved our skin."

"Speaking of skin," Lenore said, "I better take this charm off."

She hesitated. "Show me where your head is. I don't want to stab you in the eye."

"Um… how?" he asked.

"I'll to try to find you," she said. In the darkness, she raised her hands and felt around until she touched Neville's torso. He shivered under her touch.

"This hand has my wand in it," she said, pressing her palm into him.

An invisible hand took her wrist and guided it to the top of his head. Lenore gently tapped him and whispered the charm. He reappeared before her eyes.

"I should have performed the counter charm on myself first," she realized as she waved her wand above herself, "then you would have been able to see me."

Neville laughed. "It's okay, this worked."

"I had better get going before Draco and his lot get return to the dungeon."

"Be careful," he said. "I'll see you later."

"I will. Good night."

She started for the door, but turned around. "Neville, if you ever feel down, come talk to me, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

She gave him a shy smile and then left him alone in the closet.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Back in the Room of Requirement, the party was still hopping. Pansy ended up going into the closet with Blaise, but of course nothing occurred. They were more like brother and sister as this point. At least she did not throw another fit. Katie Bell went in the closet with Harry, but they laughed it off as teammates do. Seamus was not happy. However, Faye Dunbar picked his name out of the bag and he received a perfectly good kiss from her. Dean, meanwhile, waited anxiously for Margaux's turn. He was feeling extremely sleepy. He had not been getting much rest lately, what with all the tests that week. Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall behind him.

"Dean Thomas," Margaux's voice called out.

His eyes shot open and he sat up. "What?" he said frantically. "Me?"

Margaux turned the piece of paper around to show him his name. "I don't know, reading is so hard," she said with sarcasm. "You do it for me."

Sure enough, the paper displayed his name in bold capital letters. Dean stood up and followed Margaux into the closet. His entire body shook, especially his limbs. She stood on one side while he positioned himself on the other. Neither of them seemed to want to speak first.

"So," Margaux said, "how are you?"

"I-I'm good," Dean said.

" _Stuttering?_ " he thought. " _Oh god, what is wrong with me? Pull yourself together, Dean._ "

"How about you?"

"Good," Margaux replied plainly.

There was another awkward silence.

"So—" they both started in unison. They halted. "Sorry," they said together.

"You go ahead," Margaux said.

"No, no," Dean said. "I don't remember what I wanted to say."

His eyes had almost adjusted to the dark. He could see Margaux looking him up and down. He desperately wanted to kiss her, but he could not bring himself to move. All he could do was stare at her lovely face and feel his throat seem to close up.

"Do you want to kiss or would that make things awkward?" Margaux finally said.

Dean was a bit taken aback by her abruptness. "I-I want to kiss you," he stumbled over his words.

"Okay, let's do it, then."

Margaux stepped closer to him. Dean audibly gulped. He put his shaking hands on her lower back.

"Oh my god," Margaux said, pulling away, "you need to stop. You're making me nervous. It's just a kiss. It doesn't mean anything."

"Geez, sorry," Dean said. "I'm sorry I'm intimidated by a beautiful girl about to kiss me."

"'Beautiful'?" Margaux questioned.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't even pretend you don't know how stunning you are."

Margaux let out an annoyed laugh. "Ha. Okay… thanks for the compliment. And the insult."

"When did I insult you?" he challenged her.

"Dean," she said as she snaked her arms around him, "just shut up before you make me mad."

With that, she kissed him. Dean quickly returned the movements. His hands stopped shaking and instead held her back tightly. His breathing become normal again, rather than the panicked inhalations he previously felt. He could feel her fingers lightly moving across the back of his neck. Her lips were like soft silk. Dean's mind felt frozen, only able to think about the here and now. Margaux made him feel like the world was not spinning so quickly after all.

"Terry Boot," a voice said.

Dean opened his eyes.

Margaux stood up to greet Terry with a small grin. The boy stood up from his place next to Dean and took her hand. Terry held the closet door open for her and followed her inside.

" _It was all a dream,_ " Dean thought. " _It was all a dumb dream. Goddamn it, I need to go to bed._ "

He sat for seven minutes in silence, sulking about his daydream not coming true. When the time was up, Margaux shyly emerged from the closet with Terry right behind her. Terry gave a thumbs up and the crowd wildly applauded. He sat back down next to Dean and sighed.

"She's a fit little thing, don't you think?"

Dean's blank facial expression did not change. He slowly turned his head to face Terry.

"Crazy good at that stuff, as well," Terry continued. "She has had her fair share of men, I can tell you that right now."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Please don't tell me anything, Terry," he said, "as I do not care."

Terry laughed. He thought it was a joke. "She is attractive, isn't she? I wouldn't want to hear any guy brag about having her either."

"'Having her'?" Dean quoted back. "Terry, you are being a real pig."

Terry furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"You're being a dick," he said. His facial expression shifted from stoic to downright livid. "She's a person, not something for you to 'have'."

"Oh," Terry said, waving his hand, "you know what I mean."

Dean stood up. "I hope one day you learn how to respect women," he said. "Because I'm not going to sit here and listen to you be a dickhead."

With that, he sat down next to Seamus.

The game continued for a few more rounds until everyone had been selected. Susan Bones picked Dean's name out of the hat, but nothing came of it. As the game finished, they walked back in groups to their dormitories, always on the lookout for the Inquisitorial Squad or some staff member.

Dean snuck up behind Margaux on the walk back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Hi Margaux," he whispered.

"Hi," she smiled. "How was your night?"

"It was decent," he said.

"How was Susan?"

"Couldn't tell ya. We didn't kiss," Dean shrugged. "It turns out she's a lesbian."

"What?" Margaux laughed. "Then why was she playing the game?"

"George forced her," he smiled.

"Good for her, though," Margaux said. "But don't go around telling that to anyone else, she might not be out yet."

Dean nodded. Then, he said "Terry told me a little bit about your makeout session."

"WHAT?" Margaux said a little too loudly for sneaking around.

Dean tilted his head. "Your… snogging?"

Margaux pressed her lips together. "I am going to kill him. All we did was kiss. Like, I'm not even under exaggerating, it was just a single kiss. I don't even think his mouth was open."

Dean laughed. He was secretly pleased Terry had been caught lying. "What anarse."

"Yeah," Margaux said. "It wasn't even a good kiss."

"So, you're experienced enough to know a good kiss from a bad one?" he grinned.

"Oh, shut up, Dean," she laughed. Truth be told, the worst kiss she ever got was the one from Dean while he was hyped up on pain medication. But she did not say that. She liked the kiss being her little secret.

They entered the portrait hole after a bit of schmoozing The Fat Lady.

"Goodnight, Dean," she said.

"Goodnight, Margaux," he replied. He followed Seamus up to stairs to their bedroom, where the other three appeared fast asleep.

Seamus fell into bed fully dressed and almost immediately Dean could hear him loudly snoring.

" _I can't fall asleep this early,_ " he thought. " _I've got too much on my mind._ "

He decided to take this time to organize his dresser drawers. He quietly pulled everything out and shoved it on his bed. He made three piles: shirts, pants, and underwear and socks. As he was folding the clothes and putting them back in their rightful place, he heard Neville shifting around quite a bit in bed. He saw the boy reach for a sip of water on his nightstand.

"Neville?" Dean whispered. "Are you awake?"

Neville sat up. "Haven't been able to sleep."

"Me either," Dean said. He briefly halted his folding. "Hey, what happened after the Pansy incident?"

Neville looked down at his sheets. "Well… Lenore came and found me. She was really nice about it."

"What did she say?"

"I-I don't remember exactly.." He did not want to tell Dean he had cried. "Just nice things about me. She held my hands."

"NEVILLE!" Dean said loudly, before catching himself. Both him and Margaux had a problem with volume control. He continued in a whisper "That's great! Tell me about it!"

Neville pulled the covers up around his torso. The room was chilly tonight. "She, um, I don't know. She just ran up to me and grabbed my hands and started talking. And she's started calling me 'Nev' for some reason."

"Mate!" Dean said with a wide grin on his face. "She's warming up to you."

Neville smiled. "What happened after I was gone?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Literally nothing. Margaux picked Terry Boot, and I got Susan Bones. But she's a lesbian so—"

"She told me she was bi," Neville said.

"… Alright," Dean said. "So, maybe she just didn't want to kiss me. But that's okay, the point is, I didn't end up with Margaux. She did tell me Terry was a bad kisser though, so I can take pride in that."

Neville laughed. "You talked to her, then?"

"Yeah," Dean said. He paused. "You know what's crazy?"

"What?" Neville asked.

Dean thought a moment. He regretted bringing this topic up. "Right before Margaux picked from the hat, I… imagined she picked my name and we went in the closet together. It was like a daydream, but it felt so real. Like, in real time this dream lasted probably thirty seconds, but in my mind it felt like a really long time. Do you ever get those? Like… daydreams when you're looking at Lenore?"

Neville nodded. "Yeah."

Dean shook his head. "I've got to get a grip, mate," he said. "I can't let this take over my brain. This is the first time I've had a daydream like that, that powerful. It felt real, for Merlins sake, like it was reality. I don't want to live my life in a dream."

"This advice seems counterintuitive, but I think you need to go to sleep," Neville said. "You need rest. I hallucinate like that when I'm tired."

Dean agreed. "I can do that."

He shut his dresser drawers, said goodnight to Neville, and blew out his bedside candle.


	5. Chapter 5: Stars and God

"BE QUIET OR I WILL KICK YOU ALL OUT!"

Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian, frantically screamed over the herd of children who were supposedly studying in the library. It was about month away from O.W.L.s, and the fifth years were attempting to cram five years of knowledge into a few weekly study sessions. In addition, Umbridge and Snape each gave all their classes a difficult assignment that was due the next morning. Naturally, everyone waited until the last minute. This resulted in what seemed like half the student body crammed into the library on a Thursday evening.

Neville had actually managed to finish his work for both Umbridge and Snape, but the noise in the library seemed to amplify with each passing minute. Madam Pince was out of her wits. The librarian tried to shelve books and yell at students simultaneously. At the same time, two first years climbed on top of a shelf to reach a textbook and Madam Pince's enchanted books knocked the children onto the floor. The room roared with laughter and a few people got up to help the kids. There was no way Neville could memorize these stupid terms for Muggle Studies with all the commotion. He left the library and wandered about the castle in search of a quiet place to work.

He peered into the Great Hall. It was completely empty for once. The ceiling had fallen to nighttime. Stars shown brightly on the ceiling, twinkling every so often with a soft flicker of white light. The sky was clear for the first time in a few months, as the atmosphere welcomed Spring. Not a cloud was in sight. It was simply peaceful. He went inside and unpacked his study materials from his bag. The boy sat down and glanced straight ahead. He was not alone. On the other side of the room, a body laid on top of the Slytherin table, staring up at the stars. It was Lenore.

Neville immediately stood up and started to pack his things back into his bag. He had to leave before she stopped him. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but Lenore looked over, finally noticing another body in the room.

"Hi Neville," she said softly.

" _Bloody hell,_ " he thought. " _Now I've got to talk to her. I didn't even prepare anything._ "

"Hi, Lenore," he said. He debated what to do next, but finally he decided to bring his things over to the Slytherin table. He had not spoken to Lenore since the night of that ridiculous Seven Minutes in Heaven game.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked.

"Oh, I-I was trying to find someplace quiet to study. But then I saw you were here and I didn't want to disturb you and…" he trailed off.

"It doesn't bother me," she replied. "I wanted someplace quiet, too."

"Yeah, it's loud out there. T-the library is about as noisy as the Great Hall during dinner. Madam Pince is going berserk."

Lenore smiled. "You can sit down if you like. Or if you need to study, I can leave, I don't mind."

Up until that point, Neville had been awkwardly towering over Lenore, who had not moved from her position on top of the table. "You don't have to go," he shook his head and dropped his bag on the floor. He was not sure where to sit, but he decided it would be best to be near her head.

"Why are you laying on the table?" he finally queried.

"I like looking at the stars," she said. "It helps me think."

Neville glanced up the the serene scene on the ceiling. "What are you thinking about?"

She shrugged. "A few things."

She did not want to say the main thing that was really bothering her, so she turned to Neville and said calmly, "Oliver Rivers asked me out."

His stomach clenched. "W-what?"

"He stopped me after lunch and asked if I wanted to go on a date this weekend. I told him I wasn't sure and that I'd get back to him later."

Neville's brain felt like it was spinning into a dark void. "W-what are you going to say?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "He's a nice guy but…"

She stopped there. After a moment of silence, Neville managed to find enough voice to say "D-do you fancy him?"

He should not have asked that question. He did not want to know the answer. " _What if she does fancy him? What would I do then? Oh god, if she says yes, I'll have to tell her how I feel right here, right now,_ " he thought. Neville wished he could stop stuttering when he spoke. It must have been obvious to Lenore that his mood changed. However, she did not seem to notice.

"No," she said simply. "Not like that."

He felt a sense of relief. Not much, but enough.

"Then why would you go on a date with him?"

Lenore was quiet for quite some time. Suddenly, she turned her head from the ceiling and said, with melancholy, "Because I feel like I'm supposed to."

Neville furrowed his brow. "Why?"

She selected her words carefully. "Neville… I'm sixteen and I've never had a boyfriend. Not even an elementary school 'boyfriend.'" She made air quotes. "Isn't that a bit strange?"

"I-I don't think so," he said.

She turned her head back to the ceiling. "I-I'm not sure I've ever fancied anyone," she breathed.

"Nobody?"

Lenore shook her head. "Nobody for more than like a week. Neville…"

"Yes?"

"Do you fancy anybody?"

Neville could feel his entire body tense. He wanted to lie and say no, but his mouth spoke before he could do so. "Yeah."

She smiled at him teasingly. God, how he wanted to kiss her lips. She was so beautiful he could not even look at her. He turned his eyes to the sky.

"What does it feel like when you see her?"

"L-like I want to run away, but at the same time, I need to be near her."

"I've never had that feeling."

"It's kind of terrible," he laughed nervously.

"And I don't feel that way with Oliver. I don't understand why. He is a perfectly nice guy."

"He's kind of a prat…" Neville pointed out.

"Well, other than the whole know-it-all act, he's not a bad guy. He's a guy any girl would be lucky to date. But I don't want him."

"Then you don't have to have him," Neville said. "Don't worry about getting a boyfriend. It's not the most important thing in the world. You've got plenty of time."

"Thanks," she said sweetly.

Lenore sat up. She put her feet on the bench next to Neville. ""Oliver Rivers'? That really is quite a weird name, don't you think?"

Neville tried to think of something clever to say, but his mind was blank.

She turned to him and gave him an impish grin. "Neville Longbottom? That really is quite a weird name."

He smiled. "Lenore Henry? That really is quite a boring name."

But it wasn't boring. It was beautiful.

She laughed. "No, it really isn't a good name for a witch, is it? Not very magical."

"It fits you, though."

"Are you saying I'm boring?" she laughed loudly.

"No!" he said quickly. "I-I just mean… I don't know. I can't imagine you with a different name."

"I know," she smiled. "My middle name is Oceane. That's a little bit less boring."

Neville did not want to say he already knew her middle name and had it memorized for quite some time. "Oceane? So, your initials are LOH?"

"Yep. My friend Raquel—"

Neville noticed how quickly Lenore's expression changed. She looked as if she had just been punched in the stomach. Whatever she was thinking was gone now and she perked back up to her usual self.

"She used to call me 'Low'," Lenore continued as if nothing happened. "And I'd call her 'REM'. I don't even remember how we started going by initials. Do you know the song 'Low' by Cracker?"

Neville shook his head.

"No, of course not. Well, the lyrics go ' _I'll be with you girl, like being low. Hey hey hey, like being stoned'_. We'd sing that stupid song to each other all the time. We'd try to sing along to the band R.E.M. for her but we didn't like any of their songs."

Lenore got a puzzled look on her face. "I don't know why I'm talking about this."

"I don't mind," Neville said. That was true. The more she talked, the less he had to. He liked the lyrics to that song, though he did not know what they meant.

"Alright," Lenore clasped her hands together. "Now that you've solved one of my problems, do you have any problems I can solve?"

Neville glanced at his backpack. "I still need to study, but other than that, I don't have any problems, I guess."

"Oh," she said, "okay I'll leave you alone then. Bye, Nev!"

She started to get off the table, and Neville would have let her, but for whatever reason he had the guts to say, "Wait, can you quiz me?"

"Yeah!" she said enthusiastically. "What subject?"

"Muggle Studies," he said as he opened his bag. "I-I figured you would know about this kind of stuff."

Lenore looked over the piece of paper he handed her. It contained about thirty definitions of everyday muggle objects and a few pop culture questions. "I know all these," she said. "Okay, so what is 'an electronic device that can store and process large amounts of information'?"

"A computer."

"What is an electrical socket?"

"Um, it carries electricity into buildings and muggles put their electronic devices into a socket to power them."

"What does it mean when a muggle says they are going to ''plug it in?"

"They put a three-pronged cord thing into an electrical socket."

"Good," Lenore smiled.

They carried on like that for a while. The pop culture questions were particularly interesting. The lessons did not seem to be updated since the mid-70's, as the most popular band was listed as "The Rolling Stones" and the movie every muggle obsessed over was " _Star Wars_ ".

"Do you even know what a movie is?" Lenore asked.

"Like a play but they put it on film somehow like a… like a long photograph and send the film to theaters or put it on these little disks."

"And what do you do with the 'little disks'?"

"Haven't a clue," he said. "Does your house have electricity?"

"Yes," she laughed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "My mom is a muggle. And she kind of wears the trousers in the relationship, so we do mostly muggle things. Have you ever used anything with electricity?"

"I've watched TV at Dean's house before."

"Really? What show?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Neville said. "Something really dramatic, about prep school kids in America being bratty. I watched it with his sisters. And I've used a blender. Dean's mom asked me to make his sisters toast a while back."

"You don't make toast in a blender," Lenore laughed. "You used a toaster."

Neville looked embarrassed. "Whoops, that would make sense."

"Sometimes, I miss being able to use electricity."

"I thought magic was easier?"

Lenore rolled her eyes. "When you're in the library next time, searching through a hundred textbooks for Muggle Studies class, desperately looking for a mere mention of the name 'Queen Elizabeth', let me know. That'll be the moment you wish you could use a computer."

He smiled. "I'll remember that."

"I'll teach you how to use electricity one day," she said. "Just remind me. You can come to my house and figure out what a blender actually is."

"Sounds good," he said. _She was inviting him to her house. Did that mean they were close friends now?_ "Maybe I can cook something in it."

"Merlin… Neville, that is an 'oven'."

She handed him his list back. "I think you'll do well on the test. However, when the kitchen appliances lesson comes up…"

"Thanks," he said. "Okay, I have a question. About muggles marrying magic people."

"Go ahead."

"Is your dad pureblood?" Neville asked.

"Nobody is really pureblood…" Lenore started. "But yeah, as far as he knows, him and his brother are the first to marry muggles."

"And his parents were just okay with that?"

Lenore hesitated. "Would your grandmother be upset if you married a muggle?"

"I don't think so. She likes the drama that comes with the pureblood families, but she's not concerned with maintaining purity or any of that nonsense."

"I think it was the same with my grandparents. They were old when they had my dad and uncle. I think they just wanted to see their sons married, it didn't matter to who. There are blood purists back in my family whom I'm sure are rolling over their graves at Margaux and my existence."

"When did your dad tell your mum he was a wizard?"

"Right before they got married," she said. "Like, a few weeks before. You have to get approval from the Ministry, generally, before you tell your spouse about magic. You know, if you marry a muggle and divorce them, the Minstry has every right to wipe their mind of magic? How awful is that?"

"That's terrible," he gasped. "I didn't know that. Wow. How did your mum take the news?"

Lenore shrugged. "I guess she was fine with it. I mean, they got married and have been married for nearly twenty years. I think part of the reason she was okay with it is because my dad sort of converted to Catholicism for her. Not officially, but you know. Margaux and I were raised Catholic. At Catholic school, sometimes we'd have masses with our families, like our First Communion or whatever. He'd go through the motions and pray and I think he really likes the Catholic religion. He's just not baptised."

"So your family is really religious?"

"No," Lenore said at once. "I mean... I went to Catholic school when I lived in the States, but we don't go to mass or pray together or anything. My parents are definitely strict and conservative, but I'm not sure if it's religion or just their morals. Nobody in my family is the same religion, so that makes it a little more lax. My dad is a non-practicing Jew and all my cousins are conservative Jews. My American aunts and uncles– there's three other sisters besides my mom– one is Methodist, one is atheist, and one worships nature or something. But the Catholic comes from my mom's grandma. She was Irish, married an Englishman, raised my grandma Catholic, then my grandma raised her kids Catholic, then my mom raised us Catholic."

"Woah," Neville said. "I-I know Seamus' family is all Catholic. Muggle and wizarding sides."

Lenore nodded. "How about you, is your family religious?"

"Gran goes to church... I don't know... sometimes. Maybe once a year. I couldn't tell you what kind. She goes with her best friend. I don't think she's religious, but I think she likes the atmosphere. M-my mum's great aunt is Anglican, I think her family was religious. But mine isn't."

"Do you believe in a Higher Power?"

Neville hesitated. He honestly had no idea. "I-I don't exactly know. That's a big question. I'd like to think there is something or someone out there that's... better than us. I feel like we can't be alone in the universe."

Lenore nodded. "I'm the same way. But I'm also like your grandmother, I like the atmosphere and traditions of religion. I pray every so often, just in case."

"Really?" Neville asked.

"Yeah," she said a little bashfully. "Every Sunday night, actually. I just ask for protection for my family and friends and I say sorry for being a bad person."

"You aren't a bad person, though," Neville said.

"Ha," she said. "I make a conscious effort to be a good person, but sometimes I slip up. I'm actually really selfish and that makes me do bad things."

"I don't notice you being selfish."

"We've all got flaws," she shrugged. "And I realize mine is being selfish. It's best that I recognize it."

"I'm slow," Neville said after a minute. He realized the irony. "I think that's my main flaw. I don't catch on to things very quickly and that makes me gullible or insecure."

"I don't even notice," Lenore remarked. "You say some clever stuff sometimes. That's what's weird, I feel like we are hyperaware of our flaws, but nobody else even notices."

"Probably because we have to work to conceal them."

Lenore bit her lip. "This conversation got heavy really quickly."

Neville laughed uncomfortably. "So, what's your favorite color?"

"Green," Lenore grinned. "What about you?"

"Green, too."

"Wild," she said. "Two people who like green. Sitting together. What a coincidence."

"It's a small world," he smiled.

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall flung open.

"What are you kids doing out of bed?" Filch shouted in his raspy, yet high-pitched voice.

Neville looked down at his watch. "Shit, it's fifteen past ten."

Lenore jumped down from the table. "We're so sorry, Mr. Filch! We didn't notice the time. It won't happen again."

Filch scowled. "Well, it won't be happening tomorrow night, because you'll both be in detention with me. I'll see you both outside my office at promptly 8pm."

Filch took their names as Lenore continued to apologize. She never liked to be on the wrong side of someone in relative power. The two exited the Great Hall, leaving Filch's weird cat, Mrs. Norris, meowing behind them.

"Oh my god," Lenore hissed. "I've never gotten detention before!"

"Never?" Neville asked incredulously.

"Never! I've never been caught, not once."

"I guess it was about time, then."

Lenore glared straight ahead. "You'll never hear those words come out of a Slytherin's mouth."

"Good thing I'm not a Slytherin. For reasons other than they would all eat me alive."

Lenore's frown subsided. She smirked a bit. "At least Filch can't take house points. Elvira— the prefect—would have chewed me out and I can't deal with her at the moment. Something about her going after Blair's boyfriend, I don't know. They're trying to suck me into their drama."

Blair Banks was Lenore's other roommate, in addition to Odette Trujillo, Circe Defleur, and Pansy Parkinson. She was a sweet girl, she could just be very territorial with her things, from books to boys to hairbrushes. If you gave her space, she was very pleasant. Odette was by far the nicest girl in the dorm, maybe even nicer than Lenore. Circe was naive and moody, but not mean. Pansy was actually the only nasty Slytherin girl in their dorm room. None of them were best friends, or even particularly close friends, and it probably made rooming with each other a lot easier.

As Neville and Lenore got to the end of the hallway, where they would break off for the night, Neville said, "See you tomorrow."

"Excited to scrub floors with you," she said sarcastically. "Can't wait!"

She gave him a "goodnight" in a much more friendly tone. When Lenore walked into her dormitory at exactly 10:32 p.m., she was greeted by Circe's battery-powered record player blasting some song by the wizard singer WiLD CHiLD. Her songs were whiny, to say the least, but Circe found comfort in her empowering lyrics.

" _Of all the music Circe could have discovered, she found this…_ " Lenore rolled her eyes. Although, she had to admit it was not a bad song.

"HE'S SO LOST IN HIS OWN HEART HE FORGOT HOW TO LOVE," Circe and Odette sang loudly.

Circe's long lavender hair sprawled out on the floor and her thin, pale arms danced in the hair. Circe was incredibly beautiful. She had the prettiest face Lenore had ever seen and on top of that, she knew how to do her makeup better than a professional. Odette was just as beautiful, with her dirty blonde Cuban curls and full lips. Odette was one of Lenore's closest friends and her best friend in the dormitory, mostly because she was the sweetest one. She was even nicer than Lenore. If she hadn't been so ambitious, Lenore would've put Odette in Ravenclaw.

All of Lenore's roommates were beautiful, actually. Blair laid on her bed, flipping through _Witch Weekly_ and twirling her thick black braids around her finger. Blair had the most flawless skin Lenore had ever seen. She looked like an African queen in the old Hollywood movies. Even Pansy was pretty, although her nasty attitude ruined it. Her black hair was angled longer at her jaw and shorter toward the back and her button-lips looked straight from a roaring 20s flapper. However, Pansy, as usual, was nowhere to be found.

"Where have you been?" Blair asked.

"Out," Lenore said simply.

"Past curfew?"

"Yeah, and Filch caught me, too. I have detention tomorrow night."

Blair closed her magazine. "No way. Have you ever gotten detention?"

"No!" Lenore whined. "I can't believe I've intentionally broken curfew and never gotten caught but this time, when all I did was I forget to check the time, I get detention."

"What were you doing?"

Lenore did not want to answer Blair. She knew Blair would take the piss out of her if she mentioned Neville's name. Circe and Odette's song ended.

"Hey, Lenore! Where have you been?" Odette asked.

Lenore decided answering would be easier than lying. Maybe they would not make a big deal about the fact that she was out late at night with a Gryffindor boy. "I was out… with a friend."

"Why'd you say it like that?" Circe laughed. She mocked Lenore's hesitant tone. "'A friend.'"

Lenore shrugged. "He is a friend." She slammed her mouth shut. Shit.

"He?" Odette sat up from the floor.

"Out with a boy?" Circe said excitedly. "Past curfew?"

Blair looked up from her magazine. "Ooo, Len! "

"No! A friend!"

"Who?" Circe demanded. "Is he cute?"

"I'm not telling you," Lenore crossed her arms. "He's just my friend."

"You didn't say no," Blair gasped. "He is cute!"

"No!" she argued. "I don't think about him that way! Stop!"

"Lenny," purred Odette as she crawled over to Lenore's bed. Come on! Tell us!"

"We'll find out sometime," Circe smiled.

Lenore rolled her eyes. "Okay, whatever. I'll say because it's not a big deal. He's a friend. It's Neville."

"Longbottom?" Blair sneered. "That Gryffindor? Why?"

So much for her hope that it would not be a big deal. Lenore shrugged. "I like talking to him."

Blair raised her eyebrows, but went back to the glossy pages of her magazine.

"You've been hanging out with Longbottom a lot," Circe commented.

"No," Lenore said. "We just happen to run into each other a lot."

"All those Gryffindors you hang out with," Blair called out.

Lenore opened the trunk at the end of her bed and pulled out her pajamas. She decided to just smile Blair's way.

"I'm just glad it was Filch who caught me, not a teacher or prefect. If I lost House points, Elvira—"

Lenore stopped herself. She hoped Blair had not heard.

"ELVIRA," Blair announced, "NEEDS TO KEEP HER BLOODY HANDS OFF MALLORY."

Mallory Lux was Blair's boyfriend of two and a half years, a miracle in teenage time, but they seemed to really love each other. He was a year older than her and Elvira's prefect partner. Blair argued they were spending too much time together. Odette had pointed out that Elvira was simply doing her prefect duties, and Blair promptly chewed her head off.

"Why don't you accuse Pansy of stealing Mallory?" Circe asked. "She's around Mallory just as much as prefect."

Blair got an indignant look on her face. "Because Pansy is not as slutty as Elvira."

Lenore tried to conceal her confusion. "Pansy gets around, Blair."

Lenore had spoken just in time, because the next moment, Pansy Parkinson entered the room. Lenore had not said a word to her since she had been so cruel to Neville. It was actually not a difficult task, as Pansy rarely spoke to either Lenore or Odette. Pansy did not appear to have heard the conversation.

"Isn't anybody going to ask me where I've been?" Pansy said.

"Where have you been, Pans?" Circe mused her.

"Thank you. You guys always ask Lenore. I was downstairs, snogging Damien Falcone until he came in his trousers."

She took a bow as the other girls gave Pansy a small round of applause. Lenore turned her face away so Pansy could not see her face contort into silent laughter.

"I thought you liked Draco," Blair said.

"He can go fuck himself," Pansy waved her hand. "Damien is a much better kisser."

Lenore could not help herself anymore. She laughed out loud. Sometimes, the way Pansy said things was quite amusing.

"Ohhh," Pansy said, "look who decided to acknowledge my existence."

Lenore rolled her eyes and turned around to face Pansy. "You could have talked to me at any time."

"I saw you come in late," Pansy grinned. "Were you out with Oliver Rivers?"

"Gross, no," Lenore said. She did not want to say she was out with Neville. Unfortunately, Circe offered up the information.

"Longbottom?" Pansy said. "Why would you ever voluntarily spend time with him?"

"He's a sweet guy."

"Yes, well, Damien is sweet too, but he is going to be successful in life."

"A success at making you his first wife?" Lenore snapped.

Pansy glared at her. "I am not the one hanging out with loser Gryffindors."

"He's not a loser," Lenore said. "Why are you so nasty to him? I'm still mad at you about that dumb Seven Minutes in Heaven game."

"Because I didn't want to snog him, I'm nasty?"

"Because you publicly humiliated him! You could have just gone in the closet with him. He wouldn't have kissed you, anyway. You're not his type."

"I am everybody's type," Pansy said.

"Some boys don't like vicious girls."

"Whatever," Pansy said. "I'm done talking about this. I'm sorry if I hurt you for whatever reason."

"But you're not sorry you hurt Neville?"

"No."

Lenore grit her teeth. She picked up her toothbrush and stomped to the bathroom. Who did Pansy think she was? Lenore should have just ignored the girl. She wondered if Margaux had this problem with her roommates.

 _Across the castle, Margaux Henry sat up playing cards with Ginny, Helaine Benson, Verona Antar, and Kadence Liu. The atmosphere was fun and light-hearted. Verona placed her final four cards down in the floor._

 _"I'm out," she said._

 _"No, there are still cards in the pile. Go fish," Helaine explained._

 _Verona grumbled a bit, but accepted her fate._

 _The girls all giggled and sipped their hot cocoa._

No, of course Margaux never had these problems. Lenore returned from the bathroom and sat on the edge of her bed. The others has obviously been waiting for her return. Minus Pansy, who passive-aggressively pulled the covers above her head.

"Do you fancy Longbottom?" Blair asked suddenly.

"No!" Lenore said. "I don't fancy anybody."

"If you like him, that's okay," Odette said. "We'll still talk to you."

Lenore laughed. "Wow, thanks. But I don't fancy him."

"Why do you hang out with him? Alone? After curfew?"

"I—" but she was cut off.

"I bet Longbottom has a crush on you," Circe grinned.

"Yes!" Odette agreed. "He probably does!"

"No, no," Lenore said. "He fancies somebody else. He told me."

"He told you?" said Circe.

"Well, not in those words exactly…"

"He fancies you," Odette smiled.

"Can you all shut up?" Pansy muffled into her pillow. "If I get the mental image of Longbottom fucking Lenore I will slit my goddamn wrists."

Lenore turned bright red. "Pansy, go to sleep."

She mumbled something into her pillow, but luckily nobody heard.

"He does," Odette repeated. "Who wouldn't fancy you? You're so pretty."

"Lenore," Blair said, "you are too pretty for Longbottom."

"You are too pretty for Mallory, but it worked out," Lenore commented. She did know why she was arguing as if she felt anything towards Neville.

"Mallory is gorgeous!" Blair said. "Right, girls?"

Circe and Odette quickly responded with vigorous nods. A little too vigorous.

Blair made a face. "None of you think he's cute, do you?"

"He's just not my type," Odette said, as Circe replied "What matters is you find him cute."

Blair turned to Lenore. "What do you think?"

Lenore hesitated. "I think Mallory has been in a relationship so long, with our roommate, that we all forget he's an actual boy who can or cannot be admired."

Odette and Circe agreed. "It doesn't matter what the person looks like, so much as you like him that way," Lenore said.

"HA!" Pansy said. She sat up in bed. "It definitely matters what he looks like. Not just to you. If he's ugly, you'll never hear the end of it from your friends."

"Why would real friends talk shit about your boyfriend? Circe asked. "Those people aren't your friends."

"Your friends are allowed to think your boyfriend is ugly," Pansy said.

"Okay, stop," Lenore said. "I just wish we could have one conversation that wasn't about boys. Aren't we all feminists? If our lives were a movie, it wouldn't pass the Bechdel test."

"What's that?" Circe asked.

"Two women in a movie have to speak to each other. And the conversation can't be about men."

The girls thought a moment. "Okay," Pansy said. "This is a boy-free zone. We can't talk about any men in this room."

"A feminist den," Blair said.

"I like it," Odette said. "So, what are we supposed to talk about if not boys?"

"Each other," Pansy said plainly. "I hear Blair cheated on her Potions test last week."

"DAMN IT, PANSY," Blair said. "How about we make this a Pansy-free zone?"

Pansy started to argue, but Lenore interjected. "Everybody shut up. We can't talk about boys or nasty things about other girls."

"Then, I guess I won't be speaking at all in here," Pansy said.

Lenore had never heard anything more accurate.

"I'm going to bed," Lenore said. "Let's start tomorrow fresh. No boys. No mean comments. Get it all out of your system, Pansy."

"Okay," she grinned. "Blair, Mallory is an ugly twat and Elvira wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole. Odette, you need to grow a pair and stop letting boys walk all over you before you end up married to a man who murders you, buries you in the backyard, and takes his mistress to the Bahamas with your life insurance payout. Circe, you are a dumb slut with a cock constantly in your mouth and everybody knows you're probably covered in diseases. Lenore, if you fuck Longbottom, I will wake you up every morning by laughing in your manky face and reminding you that you lost your virginity to the boy who cried in Defense class because he thought a spider felt pain. Goodnight, skanks."

These insults still were not the meanest thing Pansy has ever said to them. "Goodnight, Pansy," each girl said in succession.


	6. Chapter 6: Pansy's Righteous Anger

The following day rapidly deteriorated into nightfall. It was a rather boring day. Snape ridiculed Harry for not doing his potions essay correctly. Umbridge ridiculed Harry for talking back. And McGonagall ridiculed Harry for being late to class. It was not a good day to be Potter. It was, however, a good day for Draco, who got a hearty laugh in at the Gryffindor's expense. It was also a great day for Lenore. She woke up to the sound of silence.

No, she did not wake up peacefully to a quiet dorm. She woke up to Circe playing Simon & Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence" on her record player.

"Good morning!" she had said in a peppy voice. "I thought I'd start our new day with a song."

"Dear god," Blair whispered into her pillow.

The roommates were pleasant to each other for the rest of the day. Lenore had fun with Katie and Angelina at lunch. Katie nearly choked on a dinner roll, which got them laughing even harder. Lenore enjoyed her meals at breakfast and lunch. However, dinner was more formal and she always had to sit at the Slytherin table. Generally, Blair sat with Mallory and his friends, Pansy sat with Draco and Blaise, and Circe sat with whichever boy she wanted to shag that week. Lenore and Odette sat together. In class, one could see how Odette was a Slytherin. She was resourceful, cunning, determined, and willing to get a good grade no matter what. But outside of class, she was rather shy. She much preferred hanging out with her Ravenclaw friends, as Lenore preferred Gryffindors. But they had a lovely conversation about an article in _Witch Weekly_ and walked back to their dormitory together. Odette changed so she could go chill with said Ravenclaw friends, as Lenore put on her work clothes. She tied her thick wavy hair into a loose ponytail, threw on some black leggings and a grey long-sleeve workout shirt, and headed for Filch's office.

She arrived at 7:50 p.m. and stood by the door. She was always way too early for things. About five minutes later, Neville joined her.

"Hi, Lenore," he said.

"Hi, Nev," she replied.

Lenore had no idea when she started calling him 'Nev," but she liked it, so she decided to stick with it. "Neville" was such a stuffy name anyway. She leaned against the wall and folded her arms in front of her. Neville acted like he did not know what to do with his hands. He kept clasping and unclasping them, not saying a single word out loud. Lenore almost opened her mouth to talk to him, but at exactly 8 p.m., Filch's office door swung open, making Lenore and Neville jump.

"Good, you're both on time," Filch said. "Get in here."

He nearly let the door slam in Lenore's face, but Neville grabbed the door and held it open. She thanked him and he followed her into the office. Filch hobbled over to a pair of buckets and rags. Mrs. Norris, his shaggy cat, hopped up on the desk and meowed violently. Filch started to hold the cleaning utensils out to the pair, but he stopped.

"You two aren't a couple, right?"

"No!" they both said. They accidentally made eye contact, before turning away quickly.

"Good," Filch said. "I didn't think so, since you're one of them."

He had tilted his head towards Lenore, obviously referring to her being a Slytherin. She scowled at him, but he did not seem to notice.

"Come with me," he said.

Filch led them down the hall into a room full of trophies. A huge glass case displayed the trophies elegantly. There must have been at least two hundred trophies gleaming at the three people.

"You are going to polish these trophies," Filch grinned his tooth-less smile.

Lenore gasped. "What, all of them?"

"All of them. Don't think you'll be out past curfew again tonight. You've got less than two hours."

Filch shoved the buckets into their arms. "I'll be checking on you periodically. Get to work."

Lenore slid open the glass doors of the trophy case. "You want to start on that end and I'll start on this end?"

"Yeah," Neville said.

Lenore picked out a trophy and sprayed some cleaner on her rag. "He creeps me out."

"Who? Filch?"

"No," she smiled. "You. I was talking to myself."

Neville gave an uneasy laugh. Lenore had a dark sense of humor. Sometimes he could not tell if she was joking or not, and she knew it. They worked in silence for probably ten minutes, before Lenore spoke up. "Neville, it's too quiet."

"It is."

"We have to find a way to fill the silence."

"I find talking works," he said.

She made an amused face. "What should we talk about?"

"We could play a game," he suggested.

"Let's play Would You Rather."

He hesitantly agreed.

Lenore grinned and clapped her hands together. "I'll ask first, I guess. Would you rather… get lost in the dark forest for a night or be locked in the dungeons with a troll for a day?"

"Dark forest," Neville said.

"You have to say why."

"Because I've been to the dark forest. For my last detention, actually. I kind of know what to expect."

"I'd pick that, too," she said. "Your turn."

"Would you rather… brush Lucius Malfoy's hair every day for a year or Professor Trelawney's?"

"Trelawney. One-hundred perfect. Malfoy is a scary bloke. I've met him before. Scared the shit outta me."

His eyes widened. "You've met him?"

"Yeah," she said. "Back in… second year, I think. I had to go find Pansy and she was with Draco and his dad was at Hogwarts for whatever reason. I shook his hand. He said I had a firm handshake and it would take me far in life. He has some creepy eyes. Anyways, would you rather have Snape as a roommate or a dementor that doesn't want to suck your soul?"

"The dementor," Neville said immediately. "I can't stand Snape."

"Are you still scared of him?" Lenore asked, thinking back to third year Defense Against the Darks Arts class, when Neville's boggart appeared as the Potions professor.

Neville set a trophy back down on the shelf. "Yeah... a little bit."

"He was really mean to you when we were little," Lenore commented. "And I never understood why."

"He's just… not a nice person."

Lenore smiled at his innocence. "I'm sorry. I would have said something when we were kids, but he actually liked me and I didn't want to ruin that."

"It's okay," Neville said as he stared at his feet. "I appreciate it. So, you would pick Snape?"

"No way," she said. "Snape has way too many emotional problems. I don't think he's as feelingless as he wants us to believe. I'd pick the dementor. It wouldn't throw fits. I'd take a dementor over Pansy, too. I'd trade Pansy for both Snape and the dementor."

Neville laughed. "Problems in your dorm?"

Lenore sighed. "We made this pact to not talk about boys. Boys or each other. That's not a problem for me, but Blair wouldn't shut up about Mallory and Pansy and Circe always call each other sluts and Odette lets boys be mean to her and I…"

She stopped. She did not want to say they teased her for her friendship with Neville. "I'm tired of hearing about it. Do you have problems with your roommates?"

"No, we all get along for the most part," he said. "Mostly Dean and Seamus and I hang out, and Ron and Harry do their own thing."

Lenore shook her head. "You're lucky. You also don't have to hear all them go through their WILD CHILD phase."

"Wild Child?"

"She's an American witch. Circe and Odette think her songs are so edgy because she talks about smoking weed and how shitty boys are. I think they model their lives after her. Circe dyed her hair purple to be like her."

"Do you not like her music?"

"I do. But Circe comes in drunk at night and plays that damn album and cries along to it. So, now I associate all those songs with Circe's emotional turmoil and I can't handle that."

Neville's eyes were wide. "Your dorm sounds very dramatic."

"It is," Lenore said. "But anyways, would you rather be Professor Lockhart's house elf for a year or a member of the Inquisitorial Squad?"

"House-elf," Neville said. "And I thought it was my turn."

"Go ahead," she smiled.

"Would you rather have Harry's life or Draco's?"

"Merlin," Lenore said. "Both of their lives suck."

Neville started to comment, but he waited for her to answer.

"I'd take Draco's."

"Why?"

Lenore set the trophy down and picked up another one to begin polishing. "Okay, both of them have so many expectations put on them. I don't think people realize Draco is prick because his parents are emotionally manipulative. That's not an excuse to be a cunt, but it explains some things. Whereas sometimes I can't even believe Harry is a real person. He has survived so much shit and he's still a semi-pleasant person. I couldn't do it. I'm not brave enough to spend one day as Harry Potter. What about you?"

"I'd pick Harry," Neville said.

Lenore looked up at him. Their eyes met for a second, before Neville's gaze flickered to the ground, then to the trophy he held. After a moment, he returned his gaze to her eyes. Neville and Harry had led very similar lives. No parents. No siblings. Raised by family who could also be emotionally manipulative. Gryffindors. If their parents hadn't died, they might even have grown up together. Lenore did not ask him to explain why and he did not speak up. Just by looking at each other, it felt like she understood him. It is not hard to live the life you are already living.

"Oh," she whispered. Lenore turned back to her trophy, scrubbing a slight abrasion off the rim of the goblet. They worked in silence for a few beats, before Lenore turned to him. He looked troubled, his shoulders sunked and curled inward.

"Hey... Neville?"

"Yeah?"

She hesitated for a long time. "Are you happy?"

He became very still. Then, he met her eyes.

"Be honest," Lenore said.

"I-I am."

She stared into his eyes for a few seconds. It was the truth, she could tell. "Okay. Good."

Neville was quiet, before whispering, "I really am. I-I know people pity me, but i-it's really not like that."

"I don't pity you," she whispered. "You are too strong to be pitied."

"T-thanks."

The door flung open, startling both students. Filch hobbled into the room, knocking down a glass vase from the top of a table near the door. He muttered expletives under his breath.

"Good, keep working. And clean up this glass."

He exited the doorway.

Lenore tried not to giggle. Neville saw her suppressing a smile and he laughed.

"What an arse," she said. She took out her wand and uttered a charm that sucked the glass off the floor and back into the shape of a vase.

"That broke the tension, though," Neville said.

Lenore laughed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why we always end up talking about such serious things."

"I don't know," he smiled. "I don't mind, though."

"I'm comfortable telling you things I don't tell anybody else," she said. "I don't know why."

Neville smiled anxiously.

"Oh, by the way," Lenore flicked her rag towards him, "I turned down Oliver. Little prick had the nerve to say he only asked me as a last resort. I know he didn't."

Neville's grin was even wider this time. He clearly found her amusing. "You know?"

"I know," she teased. "I'm too good for him."

Neville chuckled. "You are."

Lenore grinned, but when she noticed an imperfection on the trophy she was polishing would not come clean, she frowned. "So, how's it going with your crush?" she asked mildly.

"Oh, um..." Neville fell silent. His mind seemed to blank. "About the same."

"That's not bad," she said. "Do you think she knows?"

"I-I don't think so, no."

"Are you going to tell her?"

"Erm- no."

Lenore met his eye. "Why not?"

"B-because... I don't think she feels the same about me."

"No? Why not?"

"I... I don't know why. M-maybe b-because I-I'm quiet."

Lenore smiled. Neville was just as amusing as her. "So be louder."

"I-I'm trying."

Lenore set down her trophy and moved over to Neville. She picked up one of the trophies on his side of the case and smiled up at him. "Practice with me. If you can talk to me, you can talk to anybody."

He smiled softly. "W-why do you say that?"

"Because, I think you're scared of me."

Neville froze mid swipe and Lenore glanced over at him. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not scared of you."

"Mmm," she hummed, "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like you do."

"I-I don't mean to. I-I really like talking to you."

Lenore beamed. "I like talking to you, too. You're easy to talk to. Your crush is going to love you, especially if she's a talker. Is she?"

"Umm... kind of," he said.

"Perfect. You're a great listener and a chatty girl would love you."

Neville nodded. "W-what about you? H-have you thought about dating anyone b-besides Oliver?"

Lenore searched her brain. "Hmm. No. Not really. I'm not really worried about that. I don't need to date. I'm all I need."

"Y-you're all you need?"

She grinned. "I don't need a man."

He set the trophy back on the glass shelf and nodded. "You're right. You don't."

"But sometimes I'd like one," she smiled.

"W-what makes you want one?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I'm going to get all mushy, I guess, but you know I'm not a romantic. I just want a friend. I want someone who I can tell everything and hear everything. You know I'm thinking about becoming a journalist? I like hearing people's stories and telling my own. I want to get to know a person, totally and completely. Know every single thing about them and keep learning about them for the rest of our lives. I mean, I'm not looking for that now. I'm sixteen. I could wait at least ten years before I start looking for a man, if I wanted. Right now, I just kind of want to have fun and learn about another human being, but if I don't, that's okay, too. I have me."

Neville's eyes twinkled with what looked to be awe. "You are so self-assured, Lenore."

She smiled. "I really try."

"I should, too."

Lenore handed him her trophy. "Can you put that on the top shelf for me?"

Neville obeyed and placed the trophy in the empty space as Lenore said, "You should try. You are, actually. You're getting more confident as you get order. You're not as scared."

"I-I really do work at it."

She smiled. "I know you do. And you're doing a damn good job."

"T-thanks."

Lenore met his eye. "What about you, why do you want a girlfriend?"

"Well... Because... I really like this girl. A-and I... I want... to be with her. I want to be the person she tells everything to. Someone who I can say or do anything and she won't think I'm odd. I guess it's the same reasons as you. I just want to get to know her completely."

"Aww," she beamed. "Tell her that."

"No way," Neville grinned. "Absolutely not."

"Is it Luna?"

Neville clearly looked surprised. "No, it's not Luna. She's just my friend."

Lenore searched his face. He appeared to be telling the truth. "Hermione?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Ginny?"

"No," he smiled. "Stop guessing."

"Alright," she giggled. "Fine. You can have your secrets. I bet it's someone nobody would think of. Is it Pansy?"

"Oh yeah," he rolled his eyes. "I'd love to be with the girl who's bullied me for five years."

"Masochism," she whispered.

"Lenore!" he yelped with laughter. "No! Merlin."

She giggled with him. "Okay, I'm done guessing."

"Done guessing fetishes, too?"

It was her turn to burst out laughing. "Neville!"

He smiled at her and shook his head.

"Feet? Role playing? Submissive?"

"Lenore!" he laughed again. "Merlin, you're too much."

She giggled. "You're the one who took it another step! I thought I'd just go one more. Okay, but forget about that. Did you do the Charms essay yet?"

He nodded.

"Okay, me, too. Tell me what you wrote about because I think mine is terrible."

They spent the rest of the evening talking about classes and making jokes about their lives. Filch came back to inspect their work and let them go. They both bid a goodnight and parted ways.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Lenore returned to her dorm, Circe was in fact laying on the ground singing along to a WILD CHILD song. At first, Lenore did not pay her any attention. This was pretty much a weekly occurrence. The music was so loud, Lenore could almost feel her throat vibrating from the base. Circe sniffed and Lenore shot a quick glance to the floor. Circe's long blue hair fanned out across the stone floor. Tears stained her pretty face and her usually flawless makeup was running. A dark purple and green bruise spread across her cheek.

"Jesus, Circe!" Lenore shouted over the music. "What happened?"

Lenore kneeled down on the ground and attempted to get a better look at Circe's face, but the girl's arm reached up to cover her eyes. She cried even more heavily than before. The door to the dorm opened and Odette joined the two. Her eyes made a beeline to Circe's injured face.

"Circe! Your cheek!" she gasped.

Circe flipped over onto her stomach and sobbed some more. Odette dropped everything in her arms and ran over to Circe.

"Circe," Odette said as she attempted to pick the girl up. "What's wrong?"

Circe continued to cry.

"Circe, did somebody hit you?" Lenore shook her.

She wailed "Y-y-y-yes."

"Who?" Odette demanded.

Pansy was the next to enter the room. She shot an arrogant look Circe's way.

"What's wrong with her?" Pansy sneered.

"Somebody hit her," Lenore said. "She's got a huge bruise on her face."

"What?" Pansy said, with what was unmistakably actual concern for her roommate. Lenore looked up at Pansy. She did appear extremely worried. Circe was possibly her favorite roommate, even though they were often rude to each other. Pansy sat down on the floor next to the girls. "Circe, who hit you?"

Circe sniffed. Odette handed her a tissue, but she threw it on ground and let the tears wash over her face. Black eyeliner and mascara stained her cheeks. "R-r-randall."

"RANDALL QUINTEN?" shouted Lenore.

"Y-y-yes."

Pansy and Lenore gapped at each other. Odette laid down on the floor and hugged Circe. "Shhh…" she whispered. "Circe, it's going to be okay."

"RANDALL?" Pansy screeched. "That's it, I'm going over to his dorm."

"No!" Circe shouted. She grabbed Pansy's arm violently as Pansy attempted to get up.

"Circe! Let me get up!"

"No!" Circe began to punch at Pansy, who returned the slaps. Odette wailed for Circe to stop. Lenore screamed when she got caught in the crossfire. The WILD CHILD record howled over the noise of the fight.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" Blair yelled as she entered the room.

Blair shut off the record player as each girl attempted to speak.

"RANDALL PUNCHED CIRCE!"

"STOP!"

"SHE'S GOT A BRUISE ON HER FACE."

"NO!"

"LET ME GO! I'M GOING TO FUCKING TEAR HIS GODDAMN FACE APART."

"PANSY IS GOING TO GO FIGHT HIM."

"PANSY, PLEASE!" Circe cried.

Blair could hardly tell who said what. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" she shouted.

Lenore managed to rip Pansy away from Circe. She held Pansy's arms back and dragged her about three feet from Circe. Odette was now in tears as well. Blair got down and placed a comforting hand on Circe's wavy hair. "Circe," Blair said, "let me see your face, sweetie."

Circe sniffed a few times and slowly sat up. All the girls gasped. Her face was worse than Lenore had seen upon previous inspection. The bruise took up nearly her entire cheek and had begun to grow even darker. Blair gently touched her thumb to Circe's face and she recoiled in pain. Lenore could feel Pansy angrily flaying under her grip.

"Does that hurt?" Blair asked gently.

Circe nodded.

"We have to tell Snape," Lenore said.

"NO!" Circe shouted. "None of you are telling anyone anything. It's fine. I handled it."

"Obviously you didn't handle it well if he SLAPPED YOUR FUCKING FACE, CIRCE," Pansy shouted.

"I'm telling you, it's fine! H-h-he apologized."

"Circe!" Lenore said. "No apology can make this right!"

"That's why we should go kick his ass!" Pansy stated.

"Tell us exactly what happened," Blair begged.

"I-I was with him—"

Everybody knew "with him" meant sexually.

"—and he started talking about how nice it was that we were exclusive. I corrected him and we were not exclusive. He got upset and we started fighting. For some _stupid_ reason I mentioned that I had been with Damien. A-a-and he smacked me."

Blair finally spoke up. "He hit you because you slept with someone other than him?"

"I didn't sleep with Damien!" Circe cried. "I just made out with him!"

"He is an absolute cunt!" Lenore shouted.

Abruptly, she felt Pansy wiggle out of her grasp and sprint for the door.

"PANSY!" they all screamed.

Lenore was the first one up. She chased Pansy down the hall as the other three girls followed.

"PANSY!" Odette shouted

Circe was consumed in tears again.

"GET HER, LENORE!" Blair encouraged.

Pansy shot down the stairs and across the grand Common Room. Lenore searched the scene. She saw Draco, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle standing near the entrance of the boy's stairs.

"DRACO!" she screeched. "GRAB HER!"

Draco knew better than to get in Pansy's way. Goyle, however, captured her in his arms. Pansy screeched so loud it must have been heard across the entire dungeons. She kicked at Goyle and tried to force her way up the stairs.

"Pansy!" Lenore said. She tried holding Pansy's face in her hands. "Calm down! There's a better way to do this!"

Odette and Blair ran up behind Lenore. Circe remained at the bottom of the girls stairs, shielded from view.

"LET ME GO, YOU OAF!" Pansy yelled at Goyle.

Lenore aimed her wand at Pansy and put her in a full body binding curse. "This is for your own good! Randall would beat the shit out of you, Pans!"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Draco demanded.

"Nothing!" Lenore said as Pansy shouted "FUCKING RANDALL HIT CIRCE!"

Circe audibly cried from her place on the other stairs. Draco's eyes were wide. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," Lenore said. "Thanks so much, Greg. You all can go now."

Draco shot Pansy a concerned look, but then said "Okay lads, I think they've got it from here."

Lenore rolled her eyes. Draco sounded like he actually did something to help. She turned to Pansy. "You need to calm down. We'll get him back a better way. What good would it do to go up there and fight him with all his mates there? You'd get one punch in and they'd attack you."

"She's right," Blair stepped up. "We need a better plan for revenge or he won't learn his lesson."

Pansy had stopped trying to escape. She took several deep breaths and thought.

"You have a point," she admitted. "But we have to get him back good. Like, I'm serious. Fucking obliterate him."

"Oh," Odette said, "we will."

Lenore let Pansy calm down a little more before she took her out of the binding curse.

"We plot tomorrow. We'll let Circe get a little rest first."

"Fine."

Pansy glanced up the boys stairs. Lenore held up her wand.

"Put that thing down, I'm not going anywhere," Pansy said.

The girls trudged back to their dorm room and allowed Circe to get some sleep. Tomorrow would mark a new day. A day of revenge.


	7. Chapter 7: Revenge on Randall

**Shoutout to bgdfmokfsdjio and thewhimsicalwalrus for reviewing! And also to all those following, thank you for your support! xx**

"Ginny!" Margaux laughed. "You can't say that!"

"What?" the girl grinned. "I am allowed to say that I think Tom Fletcher is hot."

"No," Margaux replied, "you actually can't."

She flipped a glossy page of the muggle gossip magazine that her and Ginny were poring over. On the next section, another picture of the lead singer from McFly appeared.

"He's just a bunch of straight lines assembled into the vague shape of a face," Margaux said.

"Whatever," Ginny waved her hand. "He's better than that guy you liked a few pages ago. What was his name?"

"Justin Timberlake?" Margaux asked. "Oh no no no, do not bring him into this."

The girls continued to laugh and eat their Sunday brunch. Lenore had just finished eating with Angelina and Katie. She said goodbye and sat down swiftly at the other end of the table, next to her sister.

"Margaux, I need your revenge skills."

Margaux set her fork down and clasped her hands on the table. "Boy, do I have some good ideas. What for? Or should I say who for?"

"I-I can't tell you," Lenore said. "It doesn't involve me. It's for a roommate. She's got boy troubles. Big time boy troubles."

Margaux rubbed her hands together. "Fantastic. I love taking down the patriarchy."

"Thanks, I knew you would have some ideas for me."

"Hey," Margaux pointed, "what's wrong with your arm?"

Lenore peeked down at her right arm. Nothing. On the left arm, however, a large scratch stretched from her wrist to elbow.

"Oh, bloody hell. Okay, so last night this… _event_ … happened to my roommate and Pansy tried to get up and go fight the boy. I had to hold her down so she wouldn't run after him. We were all screaming and in the chaos she must have cut me with her nails."

Lenore eyes shifted just to the left and she caught Neville staring at her. She quickly put her arm down and looked back at Margaux.

"Geez, is that what you do in your dorm?" Margaux mused. "Fight club?"

"No," Lenore laughed. "And even if we did, I'd be breaking the first rule by telling you about fight club."

Margaux smiled and flipped her short blonde hair. "I'll confer with Verona and get back to you. She's on an evil streak and I'd like to tap into that power."

"Thanks," Lenore said.

She got up and started walking out of the Great Hall, back to her dorm to brush her teeth. She had plans with Katie and Angelina to go down to the lake.

"Lenore!" Neville called down the hallway. "Wait!"

She halted and he caught up to her.

"S-sorry if this is nosey," he said nervously, "b-but what happened to your arm?"

"Oh, um…" she grabbed her forearm. Neville must have heard her conversation with her sister.

He seemed to back away. "You don't have to tell me," he said, "never mind."

"No!" Lenore said. "I'll tell you. But I'm warning you, it's a serious conversation and I thought we were trying to steer clear of those."

"No, tell me— if you want. I really, truly don't care if we talk serious or not."

"Okay," she wavered, "did you hear what I told Margaux?"

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, "sorry I was eavesdropping."

Lenore shook her head. "I talk too loudly. Forget what you heard me say, I didn't tell Margaux the whole truth."

He cocked his head. "No?"

"No. Come here," she pulled Neville into an empty classroom. She sat down on a desk. "This is a secret, okay?" she said.

"O-okay."

"Like, for real. You can't tell anyone." She took a breath. "Last night, Randall Quinten hit Circe."

Neville's mouth dropped open. Lenore explained the details of last night, from Circe' gruesome bruise, to holding down Pansy, to commanding Goyle to catch her at the bottom of the stairs. She told him that they calmed Pansy down and convinced her that they needed a plan, not just to beat him up.

"Wait," Neville said. "You stopped Pansy from punching him? He deserves to be hit. More than hit."

"Yes, but don't you see?" Lenore said. "If Pansy hits him, it doesn't teach him a damn thing. We have to figure out a way to punish him forever, not just for a little bit. That's why I asked Margaux for help. She loves plotting."

Neville was quiet for a moment. He almost could not believe what he was hearing. He never would have guessed he would hear a story like this today. He had never heard a story of a guy beating a girl during his time at Hogwarts. But then again, he did not exactly have his pulse on the hot gossip.

"And sometime during all that," he asked, "Pansy scratched you?"

"I guess so. I didn't notice. Not even in the shower. It doesn't hurt."

"How is Circe?"

Lenore shrugged. Her face looked worn, like she had not slept very well. "She's not at brunch, if you notice. Blair is going to bring her meals today, until we figure out how to fix her face."

Neville gapped. "Wait, so you haven't taken her to the infirmary? Or told a professor?"

"No, and Neville—" She clutched his arm. He peered down and gulped. "—you can't tell any of the adults either. Circe would absolutely kill me. Trust me, I suggested getting Snape and she flipped."

"Lenore," he argued, "you have to tell somebody."

"I'm telling you," she pleaded. "And Margaux. You have to help me."

"How can _I_ help?"

Lenore removed her hand from his elbow. She clasped her hands in the begging position. "Just don't tell anybody about this. Please."

Neville reluctantly nodded. "A-as long as you think you can handle it."

"If our revenge plan needs more people, do you want in?" Lenore asked.

Neville hesitated. Randall Quinten was a scary bloke. But he did not want to let Lenore down. Or even Circe. She did not deserve this.

"Yes," he said. "And I'm sure Dean and Seamus would help."

"Thanks," Lenore said. "But don't tell them about this. Let Margaux."

"I won't say a word."

"Thank you," she said. "I've got to go. I'll see you at the D.A. meeting tonight."

They said goodbye and parted ways.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Lenore!" Margaux called across the Room of Requirement. The Sunday night D.A. meeting had been going smoothly until now. Lenore made her way over to Margaux. The blonde did not look happy. She was standing next to Neville and frowning.

"You didn't tell me the boy HIT Circe," she hissed.

Lenore opened her mouth and turned to Neville. "Did you tell her?"

"I-I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you told her that bit."

Lenore shook her head.

"I would have found out eventually, you twat!" Margaux sputtered. "This is going to drastically change my plans. I was going to go easy on him before I found out this info!"

"Hit him with everything you've got," Lenore said.

Margaux had finished her rant. Her mind turned to revenge. She smirked. "I talked to Ginny and she's in. She can get Fred and George to help too, if we're going to go big."

"Let's do it," Lenore said. "Neville, did you say Dean and Seamus would help?"

"You can ask them," he offered, "but I'm sure they will."

"Great," she said. "Can we all meet up after the meeting and discuss this?"

They rounded up the squad and stuck around the room a bit longer than the rest of the D.A. members. Lenore explained what happened to Circe and everyone was appalled.

"I think I have a plan," Margaux said.

Fred and George added to her ideas and the gang worked out a perfect plot to get back at Randall.

Tomorrow would be Randall's last day of complete sanity.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Randall Quinten woke up the next day with a large, red pimple on his nose. He stared at it in the mirror for quite some time and attempted to pop the blemish, but each time he touched it, the redness and size only increased.

"What is that on your face?" Draco sneered as Randall descended the stairs to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Shove off, ya prick," Randall said, tossing a nasty glare over his shoulder. He tried to mask the extremely noticeable pimple with his hand, but Draco was not fooled. He gathered his backpack on his shoulders and left for breakfast.

The walk across the castle to the Great Hall was met with many a stare from bypassers. Randall scanned the room and noticed his usual friends had already eaten and gone to class. He took a seat on the Slytherin table bench next to Mallory and Blair. Blair was clinging to Mallory's arm as he ate. She kissed his unshaven face, but stopped when Randall began clanging around the metal serving dishes in an attempt to get breakfast.

"Oi," Randall greeted them. "Where are the rest of your lads?"

"Haven't a clue," Mallory said.

Blair pointed with a piece of cantaloupe on her fork. "What's wrong with your face?"

"Goddamn it," Randall sighed. "If I hear one more word about this pimple, I'm going to murder someone."

"Or maybe punch them?" Blair asked innocently, batting her long lashes.

Randall did not catch her comment. He was too busy attempting to eat the scrambled eggs on his plate. Each time he scooped the breakfast food onto his fork, it fell off with a splat back on to his dish. He scrapped at the plate a few times with no luck. "Oh for fucksake," he said, grabbing the eggs with his hands and shoving them into his mouth.

"You're going to be late for class," Blair offhandedly commented.

"Of course I'm not," Randall said. He lifted his wrist and showed her his watch. "It's only eight-thirty."

Blair held Mallory's arm out to showcase his watch. "It's eight-fifty-five."

Randall swore and stood up quickly. He climbed up the ladder to the Divination classroom fifteen minutes late, exhausted and breathless.

"Ah," Professor Trelawney said, holding her hand to her temple, "just as I projected. Mr. Quinten would be joining us at a later time."

Randall cursed under his breath and took a seat on a plush bean bag near the front of the classroom. He looked to his left and saw he was partnered with Neville Longbottom. " _If this half-baked tosser tries to speak to me…"_

Randall could not even finish his insult, when Professor Trelawney said "Everybody partner up!"

He bit his tongue and glared at Neville. "What are we supposed to be doing?"

Neville held out a pack of tarot cards. "Interpreting each other's future."

Randall rolled his eyes. "What a bunch of nonsense. Hand me the cards."

"You pick first," Neville said.

Randall violently selected three cards from the stack in Neville's hand and threw them back at the boy. Neville turned the first card over.

"Suit of swords."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I don't know. Let's get the rest down."

Neville flipped another card over. "The raven."

"Hurry up with it," Randall said. "I knew you were slow, Longbottom, but even I thought you could read pictures."

Neville bit his lip. The last card was flipped. "Death."

Randall looked over the cards. One illustrated a man stabbed with probably twenty swords, another depicted a red-eyed raven scowling from a tree branch, and finally, a black cloaked figured with the words "DEATH" loomed in front of him.

"What is this all supposed to mean, then?" he rolled his eyes.

"Well…" Neville searched through his textbook. "The Suit of Swords means-"

"DID SOMEBODY SAY SUIT OF SWORDS?" Professor Trelawney screeched.

Neville raised his hand. "I-I did."

Trelawney dramatically weaved her way through the tables and held her arms above her head. "Which one of you got this card?"

Neville gestured towards Randall, who glared at Neville like a speck of dirt beneath his fingernail.

"The suit of swords is an omen worse than death," Trelawney started.

"He got Death, too," Neville offered.

Trelawney gasped. The beaded shawl she wore smacked Randall in the face as she examined his cards. Her eyes caught sight of the Raven and she gasped again.

"Bad things are coming your way, Mr. Quinten!"

"Is that right?" he mused with disdain.

"The combination of these three cards always spells trouble. The swords show your vulnerability. The Raven means someone is going to take advantage that when you are most susceptible. And Death… they will be successful."

"Uh huh," Randall said. "I'll be sure to keep my eyes out for a pigeon that's angry with me."

The rest of the class went by with Randall ridiculing Neville and making rude comments about the validity of Trelawney's predictions.

Despite Trelawney's ominous prediction of his doom, his next period, Charms, went on as usual. No weird incidents. Except, Randall's pimple burst at one point and he was forced to hold a tissue to his nose for more than ten minutes while it stopped oozing. Next up, Transfiguration. Randall sat down next to Pansy Parkinson, who was strangely silent today. She must be in one of her moods, Randall thought. He unpacked his textbook and notepad.

"Students," McGonagall said, "today you are going to transfigure an object with metal properties into an animated object. For example…"

With the flick of her wand, the coin on her desk became a large black bird. Randall stared a minute. The bird looked remarkably like the one on the tarot card earlier this morning. He shook the thought from his mind and promised himself that he would not recall such nonsense again.

"Does everybody have a metal object that I asked you to bring last Friday?" McGonagall asked.

Randall searched through his bag. Nothing. He could have sworn he put a pewter goblet in his backpack last week.

McGonagall walked down the rows examining everybody's objects. "And where is your metal object, Mr. Quinten?"

Randall panicked and pulled the ring his grandfather left him off his finger. He set it on the table and said "Right here."

"Good," said the gray haired professor.

"Now class," said McGonagall, "I am assuming that you all took heed my instructions to read over the unit on avian transfigurations. Can anyone tell me why it is so important to pronounce the spell exactly right? Yes, Ms. Henry?"

Lenore cleared her throat. "Because the spell ' _mentis avis_ ' is quite similar to the incantation ' _perdam avis_ ', which would cause the metal object to turn into a bird, but promptly explode, forever destroying the metal object."

"Well done, Ms. Henry, five points to Slytherin. Remember, this incantation is a wordless spell, so I want to hear no noises."

Randall stared down at his grandfather's ring and began to sweat. He dreaded on the prospect of losing his precious heirloom, but he could not recall which spell would turn the ring into a regular bird… or an exploding bird. The teen leaned over to his seat partner.

"Pansy? Which spell is this right one?"

"Quiet Mr. Quinten!" McGonagall warned.

He waited until the professor turned her back and hissed again at Pansy. The girl shot him an angry look and shrugged. She went about her class work, flawlessly transfiguring her sickle into an obsidian raven. The coin-turned-raven sat perched upon Pansy and Randall's shared desk, glaring at the young boy as began to grow weary under its judgemental gaze.

"Professor," Randall nervously called.

McGonagall's eyes snapped over to him and she held her finger to her lips.

 _"Fuck it, then,_ " Randall thought. " _It was the perdam avis spell, I'm certain. I'm never wrong._ "

He raised his wand, the spell shot out and hit the precious antique of Slytherin nobility.

With a rasping caw, a black raven sprung from the ring. Randall's proud face was plastered with a smirk. He glanced around the room feeling quite triumphant. As the bird walked around his desk, it cocked its head and looked Randall deep in the eyes and exploded with a thunderous boom. Feathers shot across the room and people ducked under their tables. Randall got a face full of black feathers.

"One week's detention, Mr. Quinten!" McGonagall shouted as she picked slimey feathers off her robes.

As McGonagall dismissed the class, Randall stood still in shock, utterly disgusted with himself for losing his grandfather's last gift to him. Eventually, he regained his senses and stalked out of the classroom, the distant sounds of cawing ravens drifting into his ear.

"You have something dripping down your face," Pansy called after him.

Randall wiped his nose and sure enough that nasty pimple had burst again. He wiped it with his sleeve and made his way to the Herbology greenhouse. The baby mandrakes had been brought out again and they rested on the table in front of the class.

"What is this, second-year?" Randall mocked.

Professor Sprout heard his comment and said "If I recall correctly, Mr. Quinten, you failed this lesson as a second year, so it would do you good to have a review before your O.W.L.s."

The class snickered at him. Randall crossed his arms and glared at the professor.

"Everyone put your earmuffs on," Sprout said as she strapped on her own hairy earmuffs. "Mr. Quinten, stop being such a baby and sit down already. Five points from Slytherin"

Begrudgingly, Randall took the last remaining seat next to the Gryffindor that always lit things on fire. " _Is it Sean?_ " Randall thought. " _Oh wait, I really don't give a shit._ "

Throughout the instruction, Randall made himself busy by formulating ways to make Sprout rue the day she had ever insulted him, instead of actually paying attention to the silent lesson. As Sprout finished her short demonstration, the stools slid back and students stood to pull their Mandrakes out of their pots. Randall stood back and let his parter, the Irish Inferno (possibly named Sean), take care of the dirty work while he continued his hollow plots for revenge.

Seamus, along with the rest of the class got ready to pull their infantile plants as Sprout counted down from three. On one, Randall's earmuffs slipped off his large ears and did several flips before they landed on the ground with a soft "ppppffffftt". Not that anyone besides Randall could hear. He let out an alarmed gasp as he heard the first cries of the baby mandrakes flood his dumbo ears. The last thing he remembered before passing out was blackness creeping around his eyes and his head receiving a hard blow before his world slipped into darkness.

After was felt like seconds, but in reality, Randall was knocked out for the rest of the class period, Randall was awoke by an icy bucket of water dumped onto him by Professor Sprout. Sure, the correct procedure would have been to take Randall to the infirmary, but Randall had always been a thorn in Sprout's garden of lovely students.

"Get up Mr. Quinten, you're fine," the plump teacher said as she placed the bucket onto her table. "That'll teach you to ignore my instructions about wearing earmuffs. If these were full grown Mandrakes, you'd be dead by now."

" _And that wouldn't exactly be a tragedy,_ " thought Professor Sprout.

Randall sat up and argued. "But Professor, I was wearing earmuffs! They just slipped off"

"Yes Mr. Quinten, I'm sure your earmuffs just decided to take a nosedive off your head."

Randall, still surrounded in a puddle of water, gave Sprout an enraged look and quickly stood up, slipped a little on all the water, and stormed out of the room.

"Also, Mr. Quinten, you might want to get your forehead checked out, you've got a nasty gash," she called after him.

Professor Sprout watched, trying to suppress her laughter as her least favorite student dashed out of her room covered in water. Randall stopped at the bathroom before heading for lunch. He stood over the sink and washed the blood from his forehead. Behind him, a toilet flushed and Dean Thomas stepped up to the sink next to him.

"Oh fuck," Randall murmured under his breath. Wiping away the blood had revealed a lightening-bolt shaped gash on his forehead.

"I didn't know Harry was starting a fashion trend," Dean commented as he lathered soap onto his hands.

"Piss off," Randall said.

"I'm just saying, if you want to look more like him, you'll also have to wipe that contemptuous look off your face."

Randall did not skip a beat. "Why don't you mind your own business, you mudblood."

It took everything Dean had not to retort or even worse, attack Quinten. He simply shook his hands dry and began combing his short black curls.

Randall swore one more time at his scar and turned to enter a bathroom stall. He sat down, did his business, but when he tried to stand up, he failed to do more than a small bounce. He tried in vain to peel his bumcheeks from the toilet seat, but he could not budge. He bounced a few more times, before shouting, "Fuck!"

He was stuck. His butt was glued directly to the porcelain seat.

"HEY!" Randall shouted. But he stopped. He had forgotten the name of the boy who was standing at the sink with him. He could tell by the vacant eyes and ignorant expression that he was a Gryffindor, but they all looked the same to him.

"GRYFFINDOR!" he cried, as he heard a door slam.

There was no answer. He was gone. Randall began calculating his escape.

" _Who in the bloody hell puts glue on a toilet seat? Was this supposed to be a joke? It's not very funny. I bet it was those ruddy Gryffindor twins. Couple o' wankers. How the hell am I going to get up?"_

Randall examined the situation. He turned around and noticed a couple of screws that attached the toilet seat to the bowl. Taking out his wand, he blasted the seat with a charm that unhinged the seat from the bowl. He stood up, his pants around his ankles, and a toilet seat hanging on his arse.

He flushed, because he's a Slytherin, not a heathen, and waddled out of the stall. He headed for the sink, hoping that water would dissolve the glue. As he exited the stall, the door to the loo opened and he was caught, dick out, rubbing his bum in the sink.

Just like a deer in headlights, he froze and made eye contact with a pair of horrified red-headed twins.

Fred spoke first. "Is this a kink of yours?"

"Now, Freddy," George tsk-ed, "you've got no room to judge."

"You're right, George o' boy," he said. "Now, what seems to be the problem here?"

Randall glared at them. "It seems to have escaped your notice that I currently have a toilet seat for bum cheeks."

"Oh, believe me mate, we noticed."

"You two did this," Randall said, his voice rising. "It was one of you. I can't tell you apart, but that won't stop me from jinxing the both of you."

"Now, Randall," George said, "we are hurt that you would accuse us of such a juvenile and simpleminded prank. You've seen our work. You've even been the butt (excuse the pun) of our jokes, at times. You know Fred and I have graduated to a certain… higher level of excellency by this point in our lives. However, we cannot be held responsible for the third-party use of our pranking products."

"So, it was you," Randall shouted. "Indirectly, but still you. Tell me how to fix this, you've got to have an antidote."

"Sorry, mate," George said. "No antidote."

Randall pounded his fist onto the sink, still running with water.

"However," Fred said, "there is a way to unglue yourself."

"That's what a fucking antidote means," Randall said. "Or is that word too big for you? An antidote means something that cancels out another object's affects."

Fred and George looked at each other. "I wouldn't be insulting us," George said, "considering we can help you."

"Alright, fine. Please help me," Randall begged. He made a mental note to exact revenge one of these days.

"Oh!" George said, holding his hands to his heart. "Quite the gentleman!"

"Thank you for your kindness," Fred said. "It goes a long way. Now, if you want to unstick the glue and make the toilet seat vanish into thin air, all you have to do is get one hundred people to see it."

"WHAT?" Randall shouted. "THAT'S A FUCKIN' TERRIBLE ANTIDOTE."

"On the contrary," George said. "We are in the business of pranking, not building self-esteems. It works quite well."

"There's not other cure?" Randall hesitated. "None at all?"

"None," Fred said.

"Zip," George said.

"Zilch," Fred finished.

"Fuck," Randall said.

He pulled up his pants to cover his crotch and mustered up all the courage he had in his usually cowardly Slytherin body. Fred held open the door. "Right this way, sir."

Randall exited the loo and came upon an empty hallway. Not a single soul was roaming about. " _Fuck,_ " he thought, " _I'm going to have to go somewhere with more people_."

"Try the Great Hall, mate," George called. "It's still early. Not many people should be there yet."

When Randall turned around, the twins were gone. He swore and waddled his way into the Great Hall. He let the world see the toilet seat glued to his backside. People pointed and giggled, unsure if this was a joke or not. All four House tables stared at him by now. He could feel the seat vanish into thin air. He was free. As he reached around to feel if it was gone, his pants slipped out of his hands and dropped to the ground. Lenore let out a gasp and covered her eyes. Margaux yelled to her mates across the table, "OH GOD". The room fell to complete silence as Randall stood naked from the waist down in front of the entire Hogwarts student body.

A thick Irish voice called out from the Gryffindor table "THAT'S A SMALL WIENER."

The room roared with laughter. Randall picked up his pants and ran towards the exit. Despite the attempt for a quick getaway, he tripped on his trousers and landed face first, bum out for the world to see, on the cold stone floor. The stunned boy hiked up his pants and dashed out of the Great Hall as laughter echoed through the halls. He did not stop running until he made it to his bedroom in the Slytherin dungeons.

He flopped out on his bed and began to cry. After weeping for nearly twenty minutes, his roommate Mallory entered the dorm. Randall felt a light punch on his shoulder.

"Cheer up," came the voice of his now least favorite roommate, "it isn't so bad."

Randall response was a dirty scowl. He whipped out his wand and pointed it at Mallory. "Get out of here, before I jinx your balls off."

"At least nobody saw my balls today," Mallory quipped.

Randall threw a pillow at him, socking him right in the face.

"I just came up to tell you," he said, lightly placing the pillow back on Randall's bed, "you're probably going to skip Care of Magical Creatures, but you better go to Potions. Or else Snape is going to be livid."

"I don't give a rat's ass what Snape thinks," Randall moaned. He thrust the pillow into his face, as if wishing to smother himself. "I can't go out there. Ever again."

"You can," Mallory said, "and you have to. There's a final lab grade today in Potions. And besides, you've got nothing to be ashamed of anymore— the cat is out of the bag about your small cock."

Mallory bolted out of the room as Randall shot a curse at the doorway. A small hole could be seen through the doorframe.

" _Fuckin' wanker,_ " Randall thought to himself.

He laid on his bed for a good hour, before deciding that there was some validity to Mallory's suggestion not to skip Potions. He could not afford to fail this final, or he risked having to take remedial Potions next year. Forcing himself to sit up, he gathered his school supplies and trudged down to Snape's classroom. On the way, he was met with many an astonished stare. He entered the laboratory and was greeted with a hush that permeated across the room.

"What are you lot looking at?" he sneered.

He surveyed the room and realized his mates had not saved him a seat at their usual lab table. He was forced to sit next to the same ruddy Gryffindor who sat by him in Herbology.

As he lowered himself onto the chair, Seamus took Randall's hand and whispered in his ear "Hey mate, don't worry. I know a guy who has the same problem. It's not about size, it's about abilities."

Randall shoved Seamus's hand off him so forcefully, he hit the boy in the face with his own palm. Seamus rubbed his cheek where he had inadvertently hit himself.

"Quiet down," Snape said out of habit, as he entered the already silent room. The noiseless class gave him a bit of a shock, but he remembered the events of this afternoon's lunch.

"Today, we are going to have a little—"

He accidentally made eye contact with Randall. The boy turned completely red as the entire class took note of this inadvertent slip.

"— competition," Snape continued. "The person sitting next to you is your partner."

Randall let out a groan.

"The potion recipe starts on page two-hundred-and-eighty-four. You have one hour. Begin."

"Oh, what ruddy luck!" Seamus complained. "Look at this potion, mate, toughest one this year— _primo igne mortem_. I've never heard of that one."

"Oh give me that book, you bloody idiot," Randall shouted as he tore the textbook from Seamus's hands. "If you'd read the bloody summary, it says: 'The _primo igne mortem_ potion was invented during the Salem Witch trials. Witches designed the serum to ignite their accusers with fire, allowing the witches to escape. This potion has the nasty penchant of creating an agonizingly slow death, tearing the recipient apart molecule by molecule.'"

"Very good Mr. Quinten," Snape cooed. "Of course, the halfwits that I educate are generally incapable and, quite honestly, not mentally stable enough, to brew a potion of this original strength. You will be creating a much tamer version of this potion. You need only substitute the clove leaves for essence of murlap and the product will do little more than create a light tingling sensation. Be careful not to let it come in contact with hair, as it will incinerate any strand it comes in contact with."

Randall ordered Seamus to begin gathering supplies. They successfully brewed a working potion, which smelled like delicious candied apples. Randall brought a ladle full of the potion up to his nose so he could take in more of the delightful scent.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Seamus said.

"Oh piss off," Randall said. "This is the only good thing in my life right now."

As he lowered the scoop back into the cauldron, he accidentally hit the ladle on the edge of the pot and spilled the contents onto the table.

"Well, fuck," uttered Randall. He searched the room for cloths or towels to wipe up the mess. No luck. Pulling out his wand, he even tried a vanishing spell with no results.

"Just shove it off the table with your hand," suggested safety expert Seamus Finnigan.

At this point, Randall mentally gave up and swept the liquid off with his hands. He gave no thought to safety precautions and continued stirring the potion in a clockwise fashion. By this time, the temperature in the dungeon was sweltering due to all the fires lit under cauldrons. Beads of sweat began to form above Randall's brow. He wiped the sweat off, realizing all too late that his hand was still damp from the apple-scented brew. Seamus turned to him, eyes wide in fear.

"Mate! Your eyebrows!"

Randall could see the short brown hairs cascade from his forehead. He screamed. Snape sauntered over to his troubled student, taking his sweet time.

"I see you did not heed my warning, Mr. Quinten."

Randall huffed "My mistake, professor."

"Regardless of your new fashion statement," Snape said, "you have proved your potion is successful. Full marks."

As he left, Seamus turned to Randall and held his hand up for a high-five. "Full marks, mate! This is the first O I've ever made in Potions!"

Randall jilted the gesture and made his escape towards the Slytherin common room. He was so done with this day. It was the worst of his entire life. He decided to just sleep through dinner. As he climbed through the Slytherin door, he encountered Odette Trujillo exiting.

"What happened to your eyebrows?" she exclaimed.

Randall ignored her.

"If you need some eyebrow filler, I've got just the thing!"

"You seem to have no problem growing out your eyebrows," Randall insulted, "along with your mustache."

Not a single roommate inhabited the dorm. Randall flopped down on his bed and immediately fell asleep. His eyes laid in blackness for what seemed like ten minutes, but was in reality nearly eight hours. He awoke to the sound of paper fluttering. He opened his eyes and saw that he was not in his bed. He looked wildly around and finally down. Hanging from the chandelier high in the middle of the Slytherin common room was Randall Quinten.

He screamed. All around him, paper flew in a blustering tornado. It surrounded him, obscuring his vision. He tried to move, but found that only one of his arms functioned. Someone had placed him in a full body bind curse. Randall lunged for a piece of the parchment and read it to himself. It said, in large red letters,

" _DON'T HIT GIRLS._ "

"FUCK!" Randall screamed out loud. "WHO DID THIS? IS THIS WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT? CIRCE! CIRCE! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING TELL! I TOLD YOU TO FIX YOUR FACE. I HATE YOU, YOU DUMB BITCH. SOMEONE HELP ME. HELP! HELP! FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, HELP!"

His sharp screams pierce the night air. Every door in the Slytherin dungeon flung open. Rampages of students flooded down the staircases, all catching a glimpse of Randall swinging high above them.

"How'd you get up all the way up there?" Gregory Goyle asked dumbly.

"I'D LIKE TO FUCKING KNOW TOO, YOU DIMWIT."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Lenore.

"YOU!" he bellowed. His eyes panned over to all the fifth year Slytherin girls. "ALL OF YOU! YOU DID THIS!"

Circe clutched Blair arm and hid behind her friend.

"What makes you think that?" Lenore yelled up to him.

"I BLOODY WELL KNOW IT WAS YOU LOT. CIRCE SPILLED THE BEANS. I FUCKING TOLD YOU I DIDN'T MEAN TO HIT HER!"

The entire Slytherin population gasped.

"You hit Circe?" Mallory Lux exclaimed.

A second year girl picked up on of the many sheets of parchment on the ground and announced "That's what it says on this piece of paper!"

"And on his forehead," pointed Elvira Lagloria.

Everybody squinted up and read the temporary tattoo on his face. Sure enough, it also announced that he hit girl.

"You punched a girl?" shouted Theodore Knott.

"Randall, how could you?" asked Millicent Bullstrode.

"Bloody hell," Blaise breathed.

They chattered amongst themselves as Randall attempted to defend himself. "I didn't mean to! She just made me so mad and—"

"That's no excuse mate," Mallory said. "You can't hit a girl. Poor Circe is going to remember this for the rest of her life."

"She'll be fine," Randall whined. "Look, she's already doing good."

Circe stepped out from behind Blair. "Except, I'm not."

She took a deep breath. He voice grew stronger. "I should have told on you, you arsehole. I should have hit you back or gotten a teacher or even gotten angry at you. But I didn't. All I could do was cry. You hurt me, Randall. You've changed me. And I am not going to let this control me any longer."

She took out her wand and blasted him with a stinging hex. He screamed out in pain. His face swelled up to the size of a watermelon. It appeared like he had an allergic reaction.

Circe lowered her wand. "I just wanted your face to look like mine after you hit me."

The entire room burst out in a loud "OHHHHH!" People cheered and chanted as Circe returned to her place by her roommates.

"Get me down from here!" Randall called. "Someone! Get me down."

The fifth year roommates would have allowed someone to help him down, but nobody stepped forward. They smiled.

"It doesn't seem like you have many people on your side," Pansy grinned.

"SOMEBODY! HELP! I'LL GIVE YOU GALLEONS!"

Still, nobody moved.

"I'm going to bed," Draco Malfoy waved his hand. "Come on, Crabbe and Goyle."

A few other Slytherins shrugged and went back to bed as well.

"Are we in agreement to leave him here until morning?" Pansy asked.

Every person nodded.

"And we're in agreement not to tell any teacher about this?" Pansy threatened. "Or to let Randall tell a teacher?"

The students nodded even more vigorously than before.

"DON'T FUCKING LEAVE ME HERE!" Randall shouted.

"Somebody put a bloody silencing charm on him!" called a third-year girl.

Blaise hit him with the spell to make him quiet. The common room emptied, as each Slytherin returned to bed.


	8. Chapter 8: Margaux Takes a Punch

The next morning, Lenore woke from a peaceful sleep. She sat up and noticed that all her roommates were already awake and gone. She got ready for the day in an empty room and made her way to breakfast. The common room was abuzz with gossip from the last night. She noticed Randall no longer hung from the chandelier. Someone must have taken mercy on him. That was fine. He learned his lesson. The entire Slytherin population was against him. Even some of the more questionable Slytherins knew Randall should not have punched Circe, a female and fellow Slytherin.

On her walk, she noticed nearly every student carrying around a piece of paper with an image on it.

"Can I see that?" Lenore asked a young-looking Hufflepuff.

The Hufflepuff shook as she handed Lenore the paper. Lenore forgot how scared the young kids were by her green and silver robes. She ignored that for now and examined the parchment. It was a photo of Randall Quinten hanging from the Slytherin ceiling. Across the top, the phrase "I HIT GIRLS" was printed in the same large red letters. She grinned. Margaux and Ginny had done their job well. Enchanting the parchments and distributing them around the school helped the cause tremendously.

Lenore handed the Hufflepuff back her paper. "Thanks, luv," she said extra sweetly.

Just outside the door to the Great Hall, Lenore spotted Neville Longbottom standing with his arms folded in front of his chest. He seemed to be looking around. When he spotted her, he gave a small wave. She smiled.

"Hey, Len," he said. He paused. _He just called her 'Len.'_ He had never done that before. Quickly, he tried to cover it up by continuing. "Everyone is meeting across the hall really fast."

"Len, huh?" she teased as she followed him toward an empty classroom near the Great Hall.

Neville's face lit up like a cherry. "Y-yeah. T-that's okay, r-right?"

"Perfectly fine," she grinned.

Neville held the door open for her and exhaled his embarrassment as she entered. The second she was spotted, Circe's skinny arms attacked her and pulled her into a huge hug then started crying. Odette and Blair joined in on the hug. Pansy stood off to the side, rolling her eyes.

"Pansy, get in here!" Blair said, grabbing her and pulling her into the roommate hug.

"Hell no," Pansy said. But she relented and allowed Blair to hug her closer to the group.

Margaux, Ginny, Fred, George, Dean, Seamus, and Neville all beamed at this show of pure appreciation and respect from the Slytherin girls.

"Thank you, Len," Circe sobbed. "Thank you for doing this."

"It wasn't me!" Lenore said. Her voice was muffled from the many people clinging to her. "I didn't come up with a single idea. It was everyone in this room!"

Circe let go of Lenore and walked around the room shaking everybody's hand. "I know I can be a bitch sometimes," Circe sniffed, "but I really am so thankful you all helped me."

Tears still streamed down her face. After she finished thanking each person, she returned to her spot near Blair, who held her shoulders with one arm.

"Really, thank you all for doing this. I-I know we're all Slytherin," Lenore gestured to her roommates, "and you're all Gryffindor. You didn't have to help us. But you did. So, thank you."

"It's not about the colors on our robes," Dean said, "it's about right and wrong."

"That is the dumbest thing I have heard in me entire life," Seamus burst out laughing.

"A bit flowery," Fred agreed, "but the sentiment is there."

Lenore looked around the room. She wanted to cry. All these people came together for one reason— they knew right from wrong. It was unusual, to say the least, for Gryffindors and Slytherin to agree on anything, but somehow, basic morals could always be common ground. She smiled at them all. "I don't think Randall will be hitting more of his girlfriends," Lenore said.

"I hope not," Ginny said. "We got him good."

"Fred, George!" Lenore exclaimed. "I really can't thank you enough for that extra touch. Exposing himself in the Great Hall? He will never live that down!"

The group gave the twins and round of applause. They each bowed and waved to their fans. "Thank you, thank you," George said. "We came up with it about an hour before. Better use of a boring Charms class, we figured."

"Technically, we didn't make him expose himself. His pants falling down was all on him."

"Oh god," Margaux cried, "I can't believe I had to see his cock."

"That will haunt me," Ginny agreed.

"SEAMUS!" Dean shouted. "WHEN YOU YELLED ABOUT ITS SIZE, I ABOUT DIED."

He high-fived his mate, followed by Fred and George.

"Aren't you glad you never saw it?" Blair whispered in Circe's ear. The girls giggled as Dean continued to talk over them.

"He's going to have a complex for the rest of his life," said Dean.

"Mallory told me he cried about it in their room," Blair smiled wickedly.

"Did you tell Mallory about him before last night?" Lenore asked.

"Of course," Blair said. "He never hung around Randall anyways, but now he knows to steer clear. I'm the one who sent Mallory up to convince Randall to go to Potions. He was happy to help."

Circe hugged her friend tighter. She held Pansy with her other arm. Pansy attempted to wiggle free, but she finally stood still.

"Thank you, Pansy, for getting him onto the chandelier."

"No, stop," Pansy held up her hands. "I don't want _them_ to know I did something nice." She nodded her head towards the Gryffindors. "It hurts my rep."

"Aw, Pansy," Margaux said, "we all know you're a real softie."

Pansy glared at her.

"Let's see," Lenore said. "Fred and George stuck him to the toilet seat, Dean took his earmuffs off in Herbology, Seamus took his eyebrows off, Blair made him late for class, Odette gave him the pimple, Pansy hung him from the ceiling, I planted the wrong spell in his mind, Neville messed with his mind with those cards, and Margaux and Ginny enchanted the notes. I'd say we all did something nice and evil, but for a good reason."

They all nodded.

"Alright, we've got to go," Fred motioned to himself and George. "Good luck, and let us know if that prick tries anything else."

"And remember," George said, "if you need anymore pranking ideas, we at Weasley Wizard Wheezes can fulfill those needs!"

Lenore laughed at their obvious business plug. The rest followed the twins out the door, except Lenore, Neville, and Pansy.

"Hey," Pansy said once the room had mostly cleared, "Longbottom."

He halted, dreading what she could possible say to him. Lenore watched Pansy, ready to fight if she so much as insulted Neville once.

"I'm sorry for that night when we played Seven Minutes in Heaven."

Both Neville and Lenore's mouths fell open. "Y-you're… sorry?" he questioned slowly.

"Yeah, alright," she said. "I am. Lenore said—"

Lenore glared at her roommate. She did not want Neville knowing she had spoken about him to Pansy.

Pansy ignored her. "—I took it a little too far, I get it. I'm sorry."

"T-thanks, Pansy," he stuttered.

"I'm not sorry about anything else though," she said hastily. "You are a fuckin' wimp and I won't apologize for that, but I am sorry for this one, single instance."

She left the room with a slam of the door.

Neville turned to Lenore. He was still in disbelief. "She… apologized?"

"That's better than any apology she's ever given me," Lenore smiled.

Neville crinkled his forehead. "Did you talk to her? After…?"

"No!" Lenore asserted. "I gave her the silent treatment for a few days. Then she made me mad and I brought it up and I sort of maybe mentioned that it hurt you."

Her face expressed pain. "I guess I did kind of talk to her. But she didn't seem to feel any guilt at the time. I'm sorry."

"No," Neville said almost instantly, "don't apologize. T-thank you."

Lenore gave him a soft smile. "I've got to get to class," she said.

"Oh, yeah," Neville said. "Me too. Bye."

"Bye," she said. Neville could detect a hint of nervousness in her voice that he had not heard before.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean and Neville exited the library late that night. It was nowhere near curfew, but the library had grown too boring for them to study. The boring routine simply did not work for Dean or Neville. They decided to try and study in an empty hallway. Sitting on a stone windowsill, the boys memorized jinxes for their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.

"Anti-Disapparition jinx?" Dean quizzed.

"Exactly what it says: prevents people from appariting in that area," Neville said confidently. "Stretching jinx?"

"Increases a target's height," Dean said. "Oppugno jinx?"

Neville started to speak, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lenore and Margaux walking down the hall. Lenore waved to him and dragged Margaux over.

"What are you lads up to?" she asked.

"Quizzing each other for Defense Against the Darks Arts O.W.L.," Dean answered. "Hi Margaux."

Margaux gave him a weird look, but smiled. "Hi Dean."

"Where is Seamus?" Lenore asked.

"Seamus said, and I quote, 'studying is for people who don't know things'."

Lenore's smile grew huge. Her and Margaux laughed.

"I expect Seamus will be making all O's?" Margaux said.

"Not in hell's chance," Dean replied. "He'll be lucky to make a handful of Acceptables."

"Have you been studying?" Neville quietly asked Lenore.

"Oh…" she said, a little surprised. Neville never really talked to her much in a group setting. "No, not really, to be completely honest. I haven't had time between all the Circe stuff. I need to, though."

Neville nodded, but did not say anything.

"What subjects do you guys think you'll be spending the most time on?" Lenore asked.

"Arithmancy," Dean said.

"Oh god, yes," Lenore said, "me too. It makes no sense. And Herbology."

"Neville could help you," Dean offered. "He explained some of it to me and he's great at it."

"I heard you're good at it!" Lenore said enthusiastically. "I see you with that cactus sometimes."

Neville forced himself not to blush. "I-I'm not that good, but I can help you, i-if you need it."

"If I have a question, I'll be sure to ask you," she smiled. "Thanks."

Neville bit his lip and nodded. " _She is so lovely,_ " he thought. At the same time, Dean was thinking about how delightful Margaux was. Margaux, on the other hand, thought about a way to get out of this conversation. She had better things to do with her time, like studying for a Defense Against the Dark Arts test tomorrow. Umbridge was notorious for her tough tests and Margaux needed a good grade if she wanted to work in the Ministry. She was thinking about becoming an auror, but any government job would be ideal, even if it was a desk job.

Margaux's thoughts dissipated when she heard a laugh behind her. She saw Neville and Dean tense up. Lenore gulped and backed away.

"What are you doing here, Randall?" Dean asked. He reached for his wand.

"I just wanted to speak to Lenore," he said. "I wanted to thank her."

"Thank me?" Lenore cautiously stepped closer to Randall, until they were just a couple feet away. "Yeah, right."

"No, really," Randall said. "Thank you."

His voice took on a sarcastic tone. "Thank you for embarrassing me in front of the entire school. Thank you for making me a laughing stock. Thank you for making my friends turn on me. Thank you for bringing all those idiots together to hurt me."

"Thank you for hitting Circe," Lenore said cooly. "Or else I wouldn't have been able to do those things to you. You're welcome."

Randall gritted his teeth. "You dumb bitch."

By this point, Neville, Dean, and Margaux stood next to Lenore, hands touching their wands in their robe pockets.

"You shouldn't have done all this," Randall continued. "I know it was you who organized this, even if you're too cowardly to admit it. Why couldn't we just discuss this? Why did you have to do all this?"

"I think you know," Lenore said. "You wouldn't have learned your lesson."

"Learned my lesson?" Randall questioned. "What lesson was that supposed to be? Don't hit girls? I told you it was a fucking accident."

"You don't accidentally hit somebody you're supposed to care for," Margaux spoke up. "So, why don't you drop that lie?"

Randall rolled his eyes. "Was I talking to you, you fucking twat?"

"Don't talk to her like that," Dean asserted.

"Ooo," Randall played, "and now a mudblood wants to fight me?"

Dean held up his wand, but Margaux shoved it back down to his side. "Not yet," she hissed.

"Are you going to let her tell you what to do?" Randall said slyly. "Come on, hit me, I dare you."

Dean's hand was shaking, but he managed to control himself with Margaux holding his hand down.

Randall turned back to Lenore. She gasped in fear as he gently fingered the silver and green collar on her cloak. "Some crowd you hang around with. You're a disgrace to these robes."

"Take your hands off her," Neville said, without stuttering.

"And you," Randall smiled, as he took his hands away from Lenore. "A blood traitor. I'd wonder why you and your pure blood weren't in Slytherin, but I think we all know the answer, you spineless orphan."

"Randall," Lenore said hurriedly, before Neville could even process what happened, "just go away. Nobody here wants to fight. Please, just leave."

Randall laughed. "No. I think you need to pay for what you did to me."

"You gonna punch me, like you punched Circe?"

Randall stepped closer. "I just might."

"I'd like to see you try."

Randall raised his fist. Lenore braced for impact. But at the last minute, Randall turned and punched Margaux square in the jaw.

She stumbled back. Lenore screamed. She grabbed her sister before she could fall. Margaux clutched her face. She could taste blood, bitter and metallic.

"Margaux!" Dean yelled. He swung at Randall and socked him right in the eye. Randall shook it off and took his wand out, but Neville hit him with an expelliarmous spell. Lenore continued to hold Margaux until the younger sister broke free. Her jaw felt like it was not attached to her face, but she pulled out her wand and blasted Randall with the conjunctivitus curse. His eyes rapidly turned red and puffy and he screamed out in pain. He fell on the ground, clutching his face. Margaux rushed and kicked him straight in the testicles.

"YOU FUCKING CUNT!" she screeched at him. Or that's what she meant to say. Because of her jaw, it came out more like "YOU UCKING CUH!" Immediately, she stumbled back and tears clouded her eyes.

"Margaux," Dean exclaimed. He held her jaw gently and put his other hand around her shoulders. "Let's get out of here!"

They turned to leave, but found Professor Snape standing right behind them. Dean nearly ran smack into his black robes.

"What is the meaning of this?" the teacher shouted.

"Professor!" Dean shouted. He gestured to Margaux. "We've got to get her to the infirmary!"

"You will, in due time," he said. "Tell me what happened."

"Randall attacked Margaux!" Dean shouted. "Just let us help her!"

Snape surveyed the situation. Margaux continued to pour down tears and blood.

"Professor," Lenore stepped up. "Please. I'll tell you what happened. Please just let my sister get help."

Snape pondered her plea for a moment. "Fine, Thomas, take her to the infirmary. The rest of you stay."

"I need the infirmary, too!" Randall shouted from the ground.

"You look fine to me," Snape said. "Stand up and defend yourself."

Randall slowly stood. He glared at Lenore and Neville. When he brought his hand up to fix his hair, Lenore took a step back into Neville. He wrapped his right arm across the front of her ribs and curled his body like a slight shield around her. Her back was pressed entirely against his, but he hardly took any notice until she glanced up at him. He gulped and loosened his hold on her as she gave him a small smile of appreciation.

"Relax, I'm not going to hit you," Randall sneered. He turned to Snape. "I expect you'll be taking away points from Gryffindor. The lot of them attacked me."

"That's not true!" Lenore shouted. "Well, I mean, it is, but he hit first!"

"Everyone shut up," Snape said. "Miss Henry, tell me what happened."

Lenore could feel her anger boil up and replace her initial shock. She decided to tell Snape everything. "Randall hit Circe Defleur. A few days ago."

"THAT'S A LIE!" he interjected.

"Ask Circe," Lenore continued. "Ask anybody in my dorm. He hit her and she had a giant bruise across her face."

"Why didn't you tell me when this happened?" Snape asked.

"I tried!" she cried. "But Circe was scared. She didn't want anybody to know. So, we decided to take matters into our own hands. Yesterday, we did a series of pranks on Randall and he found out it was us, in addition to a few others, and he came after us. I invited him to punch me like he punched Circe—"

"Lies!"

"Shut the fuck up," Lenore turned and said icily. Even Snape was a bit taken back. Lenore rarely got this angry. "I told him to punch me and instead he punched my sister. Dean hit him back. Neville disarmed him. Margaux made his eyes swell. The end."

"That's not at all what happened," Randall said.

"Then what did?" Lenore asked.

"The lot of them came out of nowhere and started attacking me! They said they were starting a war on Slytherin and punched me! I hit Margaux out of self defense."

"You are a fucking moron," Lenore said. "I AM IN SLYTHERIN. Your lie doesn't work."

"That's what she wants you to think, Professor! You see her! Hanging out with those Gryffindor idiots all the time. They've got her… like Stockholm Syndrome!"

Lenore started to open her mouth, but Snape interrupted her. "Somehow I have an easier time trusting you hit a girl, Mr. Quinten, than Miss Henry has been brainwashed by a group of bumbling idiots."

Lenore let that one slip.

"Professor," Randall begged, "I'm telling the truth."

"A month's detention, Mr. Quinten," Snape announced. "We'll discusss further punishment in the detentions."

Randall tried to protest, but Snape put up a hand. He turned to Neville. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor."

Neville's mouth fell open, but he stayed quiet.

"And Miss Henry, detention tomorrow night."

"Professor!" Randall whined. "This isn't fair!"

"Oh but it is," Snape said. "During your detention, you'll be reading literature by famous feminist witches. It will be enlightening, Mr. Quinten, you'll learn so much. Miss Henry, I'm going to have Professor McGonagall watch your detention so you don't have to be near Mr. Quinten. And if he continues to bother you in the dungeons, let me know. I can always add to the detentions."

"Thank you, sir," Lenore said. Her eyes were appreciative. "Really, thank you."

"Mr. Quinten, get up to your dormitory this instant. And Longbottom, I recommend you head back to Gryffindor tower before I give you a detention as well."

Randall scowled at Lenore and Neville, but he did as Snape said.

"This isn't the end," he hissed to Lenore.

Snape turned and followed Randall to make sure he found his way into the common room. Without a word, Lenore took off running the other direction, toward the infirmary. Neville followed suit. She burst through the heavy wood doors and searched for her sister.

Margaux sat on a hospital bed at the far end of the wing. Madam Pomphrey kneed as she applied some strange green mixture to Margaux's face. Dean paced at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, Margaux!" Lenore exclaimed.

She flew into Margaux's bed and flung her arms around her little sister. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Ah full nuhding but rage," she attempted to say.

Dean translated. "She says 'I feel nothing but rage'."

"We'll get him back," Lenore said. "But he did get a month's detention."

"That's great!" Dean said. "Snape finally served some justice."

"He took fifteen points from Gryffindor."

"WHAT?" Dean's mood changed quickly. "I hate the bloke. What an absolute wanker. I can't believe he took points from us for standing up to an abuser! I assume he took five points from you too, what a—"

"I only got one detention," Lenore said sheepishly.

Margaux let out an furious scream.

"Be still," Madam Pomphrey said, holding her head. "Now drink this and rest for about thirty minutes. You'll be back to normal before curfew."

Margaux obeyed. She laid back on the bed and crossed her arms. When Madam Pomphrey was out of earshot, she said "Dah cuhn ruine muh wide shird."

"'That cunt ruined my white shirt'," Dean quoted.

Lenore took out her wand and waved it over the blood stain on Margaux's cream colored blouse. The spots disappeared and Margaux thanked her.

"I'm so glad you're going to be okay," Lenore said. "I can't believe he hit you. I truly can't. The nerve he has. That he really thought he could hit you and the other three of us wouldn't do anything about it."

"Self-conceited git," Dean said. "We'll get him back."

The three of them waited in the hospital wing until shortly before curfew. By that time, Margaux's jaw had, as Madam Pomphrey promised, almost entirely healed. It was still a little sore, but she could now speak clearly.

"You want me to walk with you?" Lenore asked.

"No," Margaux said. "I'm fine now, honest. I just need some sleep."

"Okay," Lenore said. "Let me know how you feel in the morning."

The sisters hugged tightly and parted ways. Dean started his walk with Margaux, but Neville hung back a few seconds.

"You coming, mate?" Dean asked.

When he thought it was clear that Lenore was not going to say anything, Neville turned and followed the other two Gryffindors.

Lenore called after him "Hey, Neville?"

He stopped. "Yeah?"

Lenore looked down at her feet. "I-I hate to ask, but can you… can you walk me back to my dorm?"

Neville's stomach clenched. He could see how scared she was, no need for her to say so. He could also tell she was mortified to be asking him this favor. Lenore did not like to beg, or even just ask, for help. He nodded. "Y-yeah, of course."

"Thanks," she said.

Dean smiled softly and held Margaux under his arms as he said goodbye to Neville.

Margaux was trembling under his touch. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"You're shaking."

"With rage."

Dean let out a small laugh and Margaux joined him. Merlin, did he love to hear her laugh. She looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, that it hurt his heart to look at her. Her fancied this girl so much and he knew she was hurting.

"I'm so sorry this happened," he whispered.

"It's alright," she said. "Hey, thanks for punching him."

Dean blinked. "I did punch him, didn't I?"

"Yeah!" she laughed. "You gave him an instant black eye."

"I-I didn't even think," he admitted. "It just happened. Merlin, I've never punched anybody before."

"That's your first fist fight?"

"Yeah," he exhaled. "Wow. Oh my god, Mar, you kicked him right in the balls!"

She giggled. "I got him!"

"You did!" he chuckled. "You went off! Good for you, honestly. I still can't believe he hit you. I thought he was going for Lenore."

"Me, too," she said. "The last thing I saw was Neville yanking Lenore back, then Randall turned to me. I think he wanted to make her mad and he knows she cares about me."

Dean nodded. "It's evil. Twisted and disgusting, too, if you ask me. That he even thought about hurting someone Lenore loves."

Margaux nodded. "I'm angry. I'm super angry right now. Like, Lenore looked scared, and I hope Neville is handling that. I would've, but she doesn't talk to me about feelings. She'd try to be strong for me. She's supposed to be the less sensitive one. I cry over everything. I'm a weak little flower. But she's steel. She doesn't let anything phase her. But I think this did. I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"I'll talk to Neville when he gets back to the room," Dean exhaled. "I hope Lenore's okay."

"She'll be fine," Margaux said. "She's strong."

"I hope you're okay," he nudged her. "Does it hurt?"

She nodded. "I'm not going to lie. But it's fine. I'll get better."

Dean pulled her tighter under his arm and she laughed. "You know, Dean... I don't hate you."

He met her eyes.

She smiled. "I feel like you think I hate you. I don't."

"Y-you dont?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. You used to be kind of an arse to me, but you're nice now. I think you're maturing."

His stomach tingles with nerves. "Thanks. That's sweet of you. I hope I'm nice to you."

"You are," she grinned. "I mean, you're still a bit of an arse, but an amusing arse."

"I can live with that."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile, Lenore and Neville were a little less than halfway to the dungeons. They hiked down a flight of stairs in silence, Neville's nerves rattling. Lenore had seemed scared, but now she was completely quiet. He assumed she wanted to talk, but she seemed to just want him as a bodyguard. That was fine. Just being wanted made him feel special and he would do anything for her.

Then, Neville's ears detected the sound of sniffing.

Oh Merlin. Was she crying? She couldn't be crying. He couldn't handle seeing her cry, please Merlin, don't let her be crying.

"Lenore," he asked gently, "are you okay?"

She sniffled a few times. When she spoke, her voice broke violently. "N-n-no."

Neville stopped walking so she did, too. "Hey," he whispered, "it's going to be okay."

Neville was thankful it was dark. He knew she did not want him to see her cry. Lately, she had been showing him more of her emotions, but he knew she hated crying. She had told him before how much she absolutely hates crying and she especially hates other people seeing her cry.

She tried to gather herself together, like she always somehow managed to do. "I-I know."

Neville did not know what to do. He tried to remember what she did for him when he cried. The pure embarrassment of that night washed over him again and he froze. He could not remember a single word she had used to comfort him. But he did remember she held his hands. " _Do it, Neville, take her hand. You can do it._ "

He stretched out to grab her hand, but she did not notice in time. She reached up with both hands and wiped her eyes. His hand awkwardly hung by her side.

"I-I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I-I'm trying to stop."

He had to say something. He could not just let her feel this way and not say something. He would regret it for the rest of his life. He had to ease her embarrassment. "Len," he breathed, "it's okay, really. If you need to cry, just cry."

She took her hands away from her cheeks and Neville seized them. She finally looked him in the eye and he gulped. Her pout grew even deeper and she started crying harder. She brought her fists up to her face to cover her eyes and leaned her forehead into Neville's hands. His stomach shattered into a million pieces. She completely broke down under his hands and he shook with fear. After a moment, Lenore seemed to be attempting to regain composure, but in the process she let out a couple loud sobs.

"Neville," she finally admitted, "I'm scared."

Her warm forehead heated up his cold hands. One of her tears hit his thumb and trailed down to his wrist, making him feel absolute devastation. He gave her hands a squeeze.

"Len, it's okay. T-that's understandable. It's a normal reaction." He tried to egg her on so she could get it all out of her system. "Tell me why."

She took their hands away from her face and held them near her face. She settled her cheek against the back of his hand and he felt tears cascading from her eyes. "Because I don't want Randall to hurt my sister again. Or Circe. Or Dean. Or you."

The way she said "you" almost made Neville think she cared about him, as more than just an acquaintance. But he knew that was a dumb thought.

"Or anybody I love."

" _Love,_ " he repeated in his mind. " _Obviously she didn't mean—"_

"Or, you know," she clarified with a sniff, "anybody I care about."

Neville nodded. He was pretty sure she explained herself because he was making her uneasy. He needed to think of more soothing words to say.

"It's going to be okay, I promise," he said. "Don't worry about it. We'll all watch each other's back. Dean won't let anything happen to Margaux. I'm sure you can get Pansy to protect Circe. A-and I'll help you, i-if you want."

"T-thanks," Lenore stammered.

"I-I'm always here for you, Len. Always."

She placed their linked hands over her mouth. He was not sure if she was kissing his hands or not, until he realized she was simply trying to silence her sobs.

"Thank you," she finally managed to say. He could feel her lips moved as she spoke. He desperately wanted to pull her into a hug, but he was just so damn nervous. His thumb knuckle rested on her lips, slightly parted and magnificent to touch. She moved her hands to wipe her tears, then said, "You made me feel better."

"Good," he said. "We'll all take care of each other."

She sucked her cheeks in and nodded. "And Nev…" Her voice broke as she gasped, "I'm sorry he called you an orphan."

Neville's jaw dropped. He had almost forgotten about that. "I-it's fine. Don't worry about it."

She rubbed her thumbs in a circular motion on his hands for a few seconds. Neville watched her long eyelashes blink open and closed, staring down at their intertwined fingers. "I'm sorry, again, for crying."

"No, Len, don't apologize. We're even now."

Lenore smiled, thinking back to the previous few weeks when she comforted Neville. "I guess we are."

He grinned and squeezed her hands. "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded and hugged his hands into her chest. "Yeah. Thank you. We'd better keep walking or you'll be out past curfew."

She headed towards her dormitory again and he followed.

"You know," Neville said to break the silence, "we aren't really even."

"No? Why?"

"Because you solved my problem. I can't solve yours."

"Not really," Lenore said. "Pansy is still a bitch to you."

Neville shrugged. "That's not any different than the past five years. But you made me feel better, and that solved my problem."

"You made me feel better, too," she smiled sweetly.

Neville felt his heart pang. They arrived at the Slytherin dungeons and stopped near the door. "Are you going to be okay tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. To be honest, I'll probably join Circe and her WILD CHILD album and cry on the floor," she laughed.

Neville grinned faintly, but he could tell she was serious. "I hope you feel better. If I could, I'd go in there and make sure you get past the common room okay."

"It should be alright," she said. "Randall will need some time to plot his revenge."

"O-okay," Neville said. "If you ever need me, just ask. I'm here for you."

"Thanks," she smiled. "You're so nice."

Neville smiled back at her. She was so wonderful. He did not know how much longer he could avoid telling her his feelings, so he savored his moment of peace between them. The pair said goodnight and Neville trudged back to his room.


	9. Chapter 9: The Sex Numbers Game

"I want to dye my hair," Lenore said as she ran the brush down her long mane. The girls were sitting in the courtyard after classes and catching up on the latest gossip in their lives. It had been four days since the Randall escapades and still no retaliation from him. As Randall liked to move quickly, it was nearly guaranteed the sisters would not have to deal with him again for a while.

Lenore examined the split ends in her hair as Margaux sat reading the muggle book _Catcher in the Rye_. "Maybe I'll go darker."

"How?" Margaux asked, putting her book down.

"With hair dye?"

"No, how will you dye your hair?"

Lenore gave her sister a questioning glance. "With hair dye. From the store."

Margaux looked at her sister like she was the stupidest person alive. "No! What color will you dye your hair, you dense bimbo!"

Lenore tilted her head and said icily, "I already said 'darker', geez."

Margaux crossed her arms. "I thought last week you said you wanted to go lighter."

"I might have changed my mind," Lenore argued.

Margaux clenched her fists. Sometimes, her sister annoyed the living piss out of her. Both of them were so stubborn that it could sometimes be difficult to communicate. But they managed and would later laugh about it.

"I've got to go, Len," Margaux said. She gathered her school supplies together and shoved them into her backpack.

Lenore put her hairbrush away. "Where are you going?"

Margaux sighed. "I have to go tutor some stupid kid in History of Magic. Binns is making me do it as punishment for calling a Slytherin girl in my year 'a dumb floozy'."

"I'm surprised Binns even heard you," Lenore said. "Normally he isn't the most observant."

"Well…" Margaux said, "I kind of shouted it. In the middle of his lecture."

"What?" Lenore laughed.

Margaux threw up her hands. "It wasn't my fault! She was whispering dirty stuff to her boyfriend behind me and I couldn't focus on the lecture! So, I turned around and just stated the facts. Loudly. And Binns stopped the lecture to tell me to be quiet, but everyone was laughing at that point, so now I have to tutor somebody who is near failure in that class."

"You have to tutor the Slytherin girl?"

"Oh god, I hope not. No, I think Binns said it was somebody in your year."

"You are tutoring somebody older than you?" Lenore questioned.

"Yes," Margaux boasted, "because I am a smart cookie."

"Ha ha," Lenore mused. "I wonder who it is. It might be Anthony Goldstein. Alicia Spinett told me he wasn't doing too great. He failed the last test because he fell asleep during note taking. You'll have to tell me who it is."

"I will," Margaux said. She checked her watch. "I need to go before I'm late. Bye, Len."

Her sister waved goodbye and she took off speed walking to the History of Magic classroom. She arrived with one minute to spare, but Professor Binns was the only one in the room. His transparent body did not get up to greet her. He merely sat at his desk and clasped his hands together.

"Ah," he said in his usual monotone voice, "Miss Henry. Hello."

Margaux set her things down on a front row desk. "Hi, Professor."

Binns titled his head down to some papers at the front of his desk. "Those are for you. Your mentee is not yet here, but he should hopefully be arriving soon."

Margaux scanned through the papers inside the manila folder. "Do you mind if I ask who I'm tutoring?"

At the moment, Dean Thomas burst through the door and shouted "Sorry I'm late, Professor!"

He made eye contact with Margaux.

"Oh, hell no," she said. She closed the folder. "Professor, I can't tutor him."

Dean looked dejected, but Margaux did not care.

"Miss Henry, you can and you will," Binns said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have research to do in my office. I may check up on you anytime during the next hour and I better hear the sounds of studying."

He floated into his office at the back of the room and shut the door.

"Henry, after all I've done for you?" Dean feigned despair. He clutched his heart.

"Dean," she said. "I like you, I really do. But I came here to tutor and you are going to make that difficult."

Dean started to unpack his scrolls of notes. "I am offended. I'll have you know, I will be a wonderful student of yours."

Margaux took a seat at one of the double desks. "Uh huh, I'm sure."

"Really," he said. "Look, I've already got out all my notes on this subject and I brought quills and everything."

Margaux held up his scroll of paper. It contained roughly one paragraph of notes and not a single full sentence on the page. "'All your notes'?" she quoted back.

Dean looked over his words. "Yes, all my notes. Is there a problem?"

"Dean, this looks like you got the first five minutes of the lecture and then dozed off."

"I got all the notes I was awake for," he said.

Margaux groaned. "Dean…"

"Margaux…" he mimicked her whine.

She took a deep breath. "Do you not understand the subject or are you just bored?"

Dean looked over his notes. "I think both. I don't understand this whole house elves things."

"What about them?"

"Why are they so obedient. If I were them, I'd be outta there."

Margaux looked through Binns' papers. She handed one to Dean. "Read over this."

Dean attempted to pass it back to her. "Can you read it to me?"

She shoved it back at him. "You are fully capable of reading."

"That's not really tutoring, though, is it?" he said. "It's more like lecturing."

"How is me _not_ talking like lecturing?"

"The voice inside my head is lecturing to me."

"I would be lecturing to you by speaking," Margaux said. She was beginning to get annoyed, just as she predicted.

"But your voice is so much nicer than the one in my head."

"No," she said, "you read it out loud to me."

Dean frowned. "Fine."

He dramatically shook the piece of parchment and cleared his throat. "AHEM! 'Houses elves are subject to all the laws of their governing wizard ministry. This includes felonies, misdemeanors, or any fines that punish human magical persons. In addition, house elves may have additional laws placed upon them. In the Britain, special Elf Legislation was passed in—'"

"Margaux," he stopped, "this is so dull, dear God."

"Just keep reading!" she encouraged.

Dean groaned and turned his eyes back down to the page.

"'—passed in 1652 that clarified a house elf's role in magical society. House elves are also strictly bound by their own code of ethics that they hold in high regard. A house elf rarely compromises their moral code and if they do, they feel the need to punish themselves."

Dean continued reciting the words on the page until he finished the first side of the paper. He started to flip it over, but Margaux smacked the paper down on the table.

"Okay, now tell me three things you learned on the page," she commanded him.

"Three things?!" Dean exclaimed. "I didn't learn one bloody thing!"

"Come on," Margaux said, "I know you learned three things. You had to have learn something, because you obviously knew nothing before."

"Alright, I guess I learned that house elves have that moral code they feel obligated to follow. Secondly, the Ministry has laws to protect house elves from mistreatment, but they are not enforced. And I suppose lastly, that house elves can be put on wizard trials for any crimes they commit."

"Good!" she encouraged. "You are learning!"

"Learning how much I hate this subject," he grumbled.

"You did already know that, though."

"That's so true," Dean said. "This class is the worst. It's even dumber your fifth year, if you can believe that."

"I like this class," Margaux said. "It's fascinating."

"Wait," Dean said, "how are you tutoring me if you're a year below than me?"

Margaux explained her punishment and Dean laughed.

"Also, I'm really good at this class," Margaux said.

"If you weren't so hot-headed, you wouldn't have been in Ravenclaw," Dean said.

"I am not hot-headed!" Margaux said.

"You are shouting right now," Dean pointed out.

Margaux furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, my family on my dad's side was Ravenclaw for generations, literally every single one of them who went to Hogwarts. Ravenclaws married Ravenclaws. And then Lenore came around and ruined that with her… Lenore-iness."

Dean smiled. "You ruined it too, with your Margaux-iness."

"I'm too aggressive to be a Ravenclaw."

"You aren't lying," Dean laughed.

Margaux pointed down at the papers on the desk and smiled. "Keep reading."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean read silently for the next thirty minutes, occasionally asking Margaux a question about the material. On the hour, Professor Binns emerged from his office and excused them.

"You wanna grab dinner with me?" Dean asked as he pointed towards the Great Hall.

Margaux hesitated. Normally, she ate with her roommates. But she agreed and followed Dean to the feast.

"Hey," Dean said, "how do you feel, after Randall's punch? Is everything okay now?"

Margaux gulped. "Yeah!" She rubbed her cheek where Randall's fist had met her face. "I feel fine. Every so often It's a bit sore, but it's only been a few days, so that's normal I'm sure."

"Good, I'm glad he didn't hurt you too badly."

"Thanks for punching him back," she said.

Dean unexpectedly looked embarrassed. "Oh, uh, no problem."

She smiled as he held the door to the Great Hall open for her.

"Did you want to sit together or…?" Dean trailed off.

"We can sit together. My mates will be fine. But I don't think Seamus will be too happy."

Dean swirled around to the direction Margaux was looking. Seamus was heading straight for him with a huge grin on his face.

"Nice of ya to finally join us!" Seamus said as he put his arm around Dean's shoulder. That did not work very well, as Dean was nearly eight inches taller than Seamus. Seamus's arms were high above his own head, but he still dragged Dean over to his spot with Neville.

"Oh, uh, Seamus," Dean started, "Margaux is eating with us."

Seamus turned his head so Margaux could not see him. He gave Dean an impish, convoluted grin. "Oh really?"

He smiled to Margaux. "Why are you joining us lads?"

She replied with pep. "Because I feel like I need a change, just for today."

"Alrighty then," Seamus gestured, "welcome to the cool table."

Margaux arrived at an empty section where Neville sat alone, trying to clean up some water he spilled down his shirt.

"Miss your mouth, did ya?" Seamus asked as he sat next to Neville. Dean and Margaux took their place across the wooden dining table.

Neville set the handkerchief napkin back on the table as he blushed. "I-I did, actually. Hi, Margaux."

"Hi!" she said. "So, what's up with you lot?"

At that moment, the evening feast appeared on the table. Tonight, the kitchen elves had prepared baked chicken, green and purple salad leaves, dinner rolls, macaroni and cheese, and for dessert, apple bread.

"We've got O.W.L.s next week, so we'll probably be studying all this weekend," Dean said.

Seamus groaned. "I'm so done with this whole studying this alr—"

He stopped as he noticed Margaux piling mac n' cheese high on her dinner plate. Dean and Neville stared as well. The heap of gooey pasta was probably half her plate and seventeen centimeters tall.

"Are you going to be able to eat all that?" Seamus pointed.

Margaux placed one more scoop of the macaroni on her plate and glared at them without shame. "Yes."

They all watched as she began eating.

"What's wrong with you all?" she challenged. "Never seen a girl eat before?"

"Sorry," Dean said quickly, as he tore his eyes away. "You're just so tiny, I didn't know you ate."

"You 'didn't know I ate'?" she quoted. Ooo, Dean was going to start a fight, yet. She thought things had been going well, but that was about to change. "What does that mean? In your world, do girls not eat? Am I not supposed to eat, so I can please you guys? Was I supposed to grab that salad and starve to death? Would that have made you more comfortable?"

"Merlin, Margaux," Seamus laughed. "We're sorry. Please, we didn't mean anything by it."

Margaux raised her eyebrows, crammed some more pasta in her mouth, and brightened up with the words "I forgive you."

"Your forgiveness means the world," Seamus said sarcastically.

Margaux smiled. "So, how're the O.W.L.s going? Which one are y'all scared of?"

"Y'all?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

Margaux's hands raced to cover her mouth. "Sorry," she said with embarrassment. "Sometimes that American comes out in me."

"I don't know, _y'all_ ," Seamus said in a fake Southern draw. "I might _mosey_ on down to the _liberry_ and find me a study group to lend a quick _howdy_ to."

Margaux laughed. "That wasn't half bad. But you don't say 'I might', say 'I'm fixin' to"."

Seamus pumped his fists like a prospector in a cartoon. "I'm fixin' tuh get me some more of this grub!" he said as he reached for the serving spoon.

"Spot on," Margaux giggled.

"How long did you live in the States?" asked Dean.

Margaux took a bit of her food. "From birth until I was nine. But I didn't live in the South, so I don't why why Seamus is mocking me in that accent."

Seamus smiled. "I can't do any other one. Why were you born there?"

"What do you mean 'why?'" Margaux laughed. "I didn't choose it."

"No!" he clarified. "Aren't your parents English?"

"My dad is. My mom is, too, but she moved over there when she was like four years old. She was in the American military for a little while, that got her a job in civilian work for the government, she took a job at the U.S. Embassy, met my British dad, then he took a job teaching at a university in America, so they moved back. They had me and Lenore, then my dad started looking for jobs in the U.K. so we could go to Hogwarts instead of Ivermony. It took him a while, but we moved when I was nine and Lenore was ten. Then I went to muggle school here for two years, then Hogwarts. Did you know Dean and I went to the same primary school for a year?"

"He's only mentioned it about a thousand times," Seamus laughed.

Margaux glanced over to him and smiled. "Yeah, he and Lenore were the same year but different classrooms. I was a year below. We live in the same neighborhood, I guess."

"By the university?"

She nodded. "Pretty close. Not in those rowhouses, in that neighborhood with the single homes with yards."

"I live in the rowhouses," he smiled. "You must live on the ritzy streets. Like Christchurch."

"You're pretty damn close. Allcroft."

"Allcroft?" Dean gasped. "Holy shit, Mar, you're loaded!"

"Shh!" she smiled. "It's just a nice house, calm down."

"I live in De Beauvoir," he said. "Mar, you live like a 15 minute walk from me."

"That's a cute street!"

"I like it," he grinned.

Margaux pointed at Seamus. "Did you go to muggle school?"

He nodded. "I went to a Catholic boys school."

"Ew," she said. "No wonder you're so awkward around girls."

"Hey!" he laughed. "You should talk to Neville! At least I interacted with people my own age!"

Margaux turned to Neville. "What?"

"He didn't go to school," Seamus tilted his head towards the boy.

Margaux crinkled her nose. "You didn't go to school?"

Neville was clearly flustered. "I-I... n-no, not like y-you all did. My grandmother taught me, o-or, twice a week I'd go to a tutor with some other pureblood kids."

"Who?" Margaux asked.

"Umm... Ernie MacMillian. Susan Bones. Hannah Abbott. Stephen Cornfoot. Crabbe and Goyle."

"You knew Crabbe and Goyle before Hogwarts?" Seamus gapped, along with the other two.

"W-we all kind of k-knew each other," Neville said. "W-we weren't friends. There was really time to talk. B-but y-yeah, I grew up around a lot of these people."

"I didn't know that," Dean said.

Neville nodded but stayed silent.

"I'm kind of sad I didn't live in one place my entire life," Margaux said. "Sometimes I wish I still went to the muggle school I did in America, just so I could watch everyone grow up."

"It's weird watching people grow up," Seamus said. "We've seen everyone our age since they were eleven. Now they're out drinking, doing drugs, talking about getting laid. That's the weirdest part."

"I know!" Margaux's hand banged on the table. "Like my roommate the other day was talking about sucking a boy off, but I still think of her as eleven. I still think of myself as eleven."

"Which roommate is this?" Seamus's eyes widened.

Margaux reached across the table and threw a piece of bread at him.

"Alright!" he laughed. "Sorry!"

"None of your damn business, that's who," she said firmly. "She's not sucking you off, you arse."

Seamus smiled. "I am sorry, Margaux. It's a joke."

"Your sex life is a joke," she muttered.

Neville and Dean roared with laughter and even Seamus cracked a smile. "Okay, you little wench, how's your love coming?"

"I'm not coming, that's for sure."

Dean nearly spit his drink back into his glass, which made Margaux howl. "I'm kidding!" she said as she patted his back.

"So you are cumming?" Seamus teased.

"Shut up," she smiled. "I'm completely joking. I don't and won't do that."

"Why not?" Seamus asked.

She gave him a disgusted look. "I'm fifteen. I'm basically a freshman in high school."

"I watch American movies," Seamus said. "I know freshman in high schools do it."

"I know," she said. "Plenty of them do. Even here at Hogwarts. But I don't want to."

"That's fine," Dean spoke up. "Don't do anything you don't want to."

"Dean doesn't want to do it, either," Seamus spoke up. "Something about values or something."

Margaux turned to Dean. "Were you raised religious?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but that's not why. I just think waiting for a solid relationship is better."

"Dean!" she laughed. "I thought you were a player."

"What?" his mouth dropped open. "Where would you get that idea?"

"You flirt with everyone," she smiled from behind her water glass.

"I..." He started to argue, but fell silent. "Okay, I'm just charming."

Margaux laughed. "Sure."

"I am!"

"So are you waiting until marriage?" she asked.

"No!" he said. "No. Just like... I don't know. A good relationship. Maybe a couple months or something. It just depends. Also, how old I am."

"You just turned sixteen?"

He nodded and Margaux joined him. "Makes sense."

Seamus spoke up. "Neville here is waiting for marriage."

"No I'm not!" he argued.

"You're not?" Margaux laughed.

"N-no," he said. "I-I'm just waiting for..."

"Anybody who'll let him!" Seamus cut in.

"No!"

Margaux giggled. "You're the monogamous type, aren't you?"

"W-what do you mean?" Neville asked.

"I mean, you're not the type to go on a bunch of dates. You want a relationship."

He nodded. "Y-yeah, I guess. I-I'm like Dean."

Margaux smiled. "Me, too. I think a lot of my friends are. Lenore's the one with slutty friends."

"Lenore has slutty friends?" Seamus clapped his hands together in interest.

Margaux threw another dinner roll at him, but he dodged it. "Shut up, Seamus. You know her friends get around. Her roommates never shut up about sex and she never shuts up about sex when she's around them."

"Lenore's had sex?" Dean gapped.

"No!" Margaux said at once. "No. And don't start that rumor."

"What has Lenore done?" Seamus asked.

"How the fuck should I know?" Margaux said with food in her mouth. "We don't talk about out love lives."

"So how do you know she hasn't had sex?"

Margaux did not hesitate. "Because she literally hates men."

Seamus and Dean laughed, but Neville asked, "W-what do you mean?"

"I mean, she's the coldest girl I've ever met. She doesn't flirt, she's outright mean, she turns boys down or cuts them off entirely. Like, let me give you an example. I was asked out last month by Colin Creevey. We're just friends. I gently told him no thanks, not now, and we're still friends. I casually slipped him back into the friend zone and I don't even think he knows it happened."

Neville nodded.

"Lenore, on the other hand... One time this guy, Horatio Pershore was flirting with her. He asked her out and she said and I am quoting, 'No. Get away from me.' Then she stopped talking to him entirely. Anytime he would try to contact her, she would tell him to go fuck himself."

Dean and Seamus laughed. "Geez," Seamus smiled. "I always knew Lenore was a cold bitch-"

"There's a big difference between Colin and Horatio," Neville interrupted.

Margaux turned to look at him. He had not stuttered. And he talked without being asked a question. Her mouth dropped open.

"Colin is a nice guy," Neville said. "Horatio is an arse who probably harassed her."

Margaux nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, Neville, you're right. She attracts the worst type of guys. I don't. You're completely right. Every boy I know who's been into Lenore, he's the biggest prat on this planet."

"Oliver Rivers," Neville whispered.

Margaux set her fork on her plate and pushed it away from herself. "Yep. I heard about that."

Neville fell silent and Margaux stared at him. "You've been awfully quiet tonight."

"He's always like this," Dean laughed

"But he's got some funny quips now and again, so we keep him around," Seamus joked.

"Thanks, lads," Neville said quietly.

"So, what's up with you?" Margaux asked. "Since you never spoke up when I first asked."

"Um," Neville said shyly, "not much."

Margaux laid her face against her fist that was propped up on the table. "Booooring," she said, which caused Neville to nervously tense. "I know you must have an interesting life, Longbottom. Tell me something I don't know about your life."

"I, um," Neville thought a moment, "I have no idea."

Margaux stared at him. "Why aren't you a Hufflepuff?"

"I ask myself that every day."

Margaux laughed. "I do, too, honestly. If I weren't a Gryffindor, I'd be a Hufflepuff."

"I-I almost got put in Hufflepuff during the first year Sorting Ceremony. I probably would have fit in better there."

"I am not surprised," Margaux grinned. "You do come across as a Hufflepuff, but the hat's never wrong. Just because you don't do stupid things like Dean and Seamus here doesn't mean you aren't a Gryffindor."

"Hey," Seamus said,"you do some pretty stupid stuff, too, ya hot-head."

Margaux shot him a dirty look. "Anyways, Neville, we're all here for a reason."

"What would you do if you were put in Slytherin?" Dean asked.

"Oh, yuck!" Margaux said. "I wouldn't last one day. I would murder somebody. Bunch of stuck up wussies."

"Your sister a 'stuck up wussy'?" Seamus laughed.

Margaux shrugged. "I wouldn't use those harsh words exactly… I'd use slightly nicer synonyms."

Dean and Seamus laughed. Neville smiled uncomfortably.

"I love her, though," Margaux said as she took a sip of her water. "That's just how sisters talk. I'm sure she says the same about me. But at the end of the day, we have fun together. Nevertheless, I'd die as a Slytherin. Me and my roommates play games and talk. Lenore and her roommates trade mean comments and fight."

Neville asked quietly, "Do you think Lenore is mean?"

"Nah," Margaux said. "She can be if you piss her off, like I do quite often, but to the general population, she's perfectly nice. Slytherins want to be liked, you know. You generally can't be liked if you're a bitch. _cough_ PansyParkinson _cough_. Oh, excuse me! I had something in my throat. _cough_ likePansyontheweekends _cough_."

The boys roared with laughter, especially Seamus. It was a lovely dinner.

 **.**

 **Lenore's POV**

Across the Great Hall, Lenore and Odette sat together as usual for supper. Odette's plate only featured a few leafs of bitter salad. Last week, she allowed a sixth year Hufflepuff boy call her fat, without her replying a word. Lenore noticed her lack of appetite and commented.

"Honey, you need to eat. You are not fat."

"I am," Odette sighed as she picked at the green leaves on her plate.

Meanwhile, Lenore placed a third dinner roll on her plate. "Odette, you are skinnier than me and I don't think I'm fat."

"You look cute today," dodged Odette. "I like how you clipped your bangs to the side."

"You look cute every day," Lenore offered. "And don't you ever let some pimply-faced male speak to you like that ever again. Being passive-aggressive is just as bad as Randall h—"

"Okay!" Odette interjected. She covered ears with her palms. "I get it!"

"I'm just concerned about you!" Lenore said loudly enough for Odette to hear through her makeshift earmuffs. "New topic, though!"

They finished out the meal with a nice conversation about their Potions homework. When their plates were cleared, they made their way back to the dorm room for the evening. Neither of them had plans, other than studying for O.W.L.s, and besides, Umbridge had instituted some rather rough curfew rules that mostly confined students to their common rooms after supper.

The girls entered the dimly lit Slytherin common room. It was a grand entryway that reminded Lenore of an old muggle bank she once toured. High ceilings decorated with silver art, wide staircases to the right and left, which led up to a second story open hallway lined with chairs and tables. Their room was the one closest to the balcony overlooking the common room. Lenore stopped at the top of the stairs.

"Wait," Lenore put her arm in front of Odette. The girls halted a few steps from their door. "Do you hear that?"

The Slytherins stood completely still for a few seconds. In the distance, they could hear moaning. Bed springs creaked.

"Someone is having sex!" Odette hissed. "Who could it be?"

"It's either coming from our room or the girls across the hall. Let's get closer."

They took a few paces forward and craned their ears towards the dreadful sound.

"It's definitely coming from our room," Lenore said. "Great."

"Who is it though?" Odette asked.

"Well Odette, since we're the only two virgins, it could literally any of the others."

"Not Pansy," Odette figured out. "I saw her at dinner."

Lenore nodded. "So, Circe or Blair. But how did she get a boy up here?"

"Yeah!" Odette wondered. "I have no idea! I've heard stories of girls figuring out way to do it without the stairs collapsing, but I don't know the logistics."

Lenore took a seat in the hallway. Odette did the same. The plush green carpet felt itchy on her bare legs, but she endured it. "I guess we'll just have to wait here. Unless you wanted to go down to the common room?"

Odette shook her head. "And see all the douche bags we passed coming up here? No thanks."

Lenore smiled. In the distance, she could hear playful giggles. She winced. "We'll have to talk loudly to drown out that awful noise."

Odette nodded vigorously. "Definitely. So… what's up with you?"

"Not much. I'm just trying not to fail Arithmancy."

"I hate Professor Vector," Odette sighed. "She takes everything too seriously."

"I mean, she's not bad, I just hate the subject. Numbers get jumbled in my brain."

Odette agreed. "I don't want any job that involves math. I still think I want to be a librarian."

"That would be fun!" Lenore said. "I'm going to be a reporter for the _Daily Prophet_. As long as it's not as corrupt as it is now. If it is, I'll write for _Witch Weekly_."

"You'd be good at that!"

"We can start out own column— _Two Virgins, One Advice Column_. It's all about us giving our ignorant advice on sex."

"Brilliant," Odette said.

Pansy emerged from the staircase. "And just why are my two virgins sitting in the hallway?"

"Go put your ear against our bedroom door," Lenore said.

Pansy gave them a suspicious look. She obeyed and leaned close to the wooden door. She, too, heard moans unmistakably caused by lovemaking.

"Oh hell no," Pansy groaned. "I wanted to hide Circe's record player before she got back to the room."

She sat down with Odette and Lenore. "But since Blair and Mallory are going at it, I guess you lot get to entertain me."

Odette and Lenore looked at each other. "Let's play a game," Odette suggested.

"Okay," Pansy said. "since we have to endure these godawful sounds, let's play the Sex Number game."

"What's the Sex Number game?" Blair asked as she entered the hallway. Her black hair was twisted up in three different buns across her head. Pansy had previously made fun of her for this hairstyle, but Mallory said it was cute, so Blair had been wearing it like that the past week. She looked towards their closed bedroom door. "And why are you all out here?"

"So, it's definitely Circe," Pansy said. "Circe is inside fucking somebody."

Blair pretended to vomit. She took a seat near all the girls. "Let's play this game, then."

"Okay," Pansy said. "The Sex Number game is really easy. You count up all the numbers you have done. You can only count a number for each person. For example, Blair, since you're a monogamous slut, you only get five points for sleeping with Mallory, not five points every time you've slept with him. But if you've done this stuff with multiple boys, count each number for each boy. The numbers are: one point for kissing, two for making out, three for hand stuff, four for oral stuff, and five for sex. Do you all get it?"

The girls all nodded.

"Alright," Pansy said. "Everyone add up your numbers. Lenore, I know you're not good at math, but I'm pretty sure even you can count to zero."

Lenore glared at Pansy but continued to think back to make sure she didn't miss anything.

"Odette," Pansy asked, "what's your number?"

Odette continued to count on her fingers. She flipped her curly blonde hair behind her shoulders and announced "Twelve."

"TWELVE?" Lenore proclaimed. "HOW?"

"Odette does all that hand stuff," Pansy brushed aside. "Blair, what about you?"

"Nineteen," Blair said proudly.

"I've got you all beat," Pansy said. "Thirty-eight."

"Merlin H. Wizard, Pansy," Odette said. "Thirty-eight?"

Lenore sat back in silence. She hoped Pansy would forget all about asking her.

"Lenore?" Pansy turned to her and smirked.

She bit her lip. "Can I get a half point for hand-holding?"

Pansy nearly choked on her laughter. "No! Tell us your number, Henry."

"Two."

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "Two? You've only kissed two boys?"

"No," Lenore said. "I've only made out with one boy."

"Who?" Pansy asked, still surprised.

"Blaise."

"You've snogged Blaise?" Pansy asked, surprised and a little territorial. "Bloody hell, when?"

"Earlier this year. At a party."

Pansy crossed her arms. "You? You made out with someone without wanting a relationship?"

"Yes," Lenore argued. "I'm not a prude."

"Lenore, admit it, you're a mega virgin," Pansy rolled her eyes. "You are a prude."

"Nooo," Lenore said. "I'm just picky. I could have more points, but I choose not to."

"That is the definition of 'prude'," Pansy pointed out.

"You'd rather I dated the three losers who asked me out this year?"

Pansy shrugged. "You deserve a lil' cock, honey."

Lenore stuck her tongue out. "I don't want to sleep with anybody yet."

"What if you had said yes to Oliver Rivers?" Pansy asked. "Would you have fucked him eventually?"

"No, yuck."

"What about Longbottom, would you fuck him?"

Lenore screwed up her face, which made Pansy laugh. Before she could argue, Pansy shouted, "Longbottom is that type of guy who cums while you're still undoing his zipper."

Blair laughed so hard she toppled over onto the ground. Odette collasped on top of her in a fit of giggles. Lenore pouted.

"Well, that's mean," she said quietly.

Pansy just shrugged. Lenore knew she should yell at Pansy, but for whatever reason, she could not bring herself to do it. Talking to Pansy had always been a game of "Pick Your Battle" and Lenore often chose not to take up arms. It was not worth the hassle. And yet, she immediately felt racked with guilt for not defending Neville.

"Why wouldn't you sleep with them?" Odette asked. "He's sweet."

Lenore hesitated. This question was so dumb. "Because I only want to sleep with somebody I fancy, and I don't fancy either of them at the moment."

"'At the moment'?" Blair's eyes grew wide. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Henry, don't tell me you fancy Longbottom," Pansy shouted. "I will never speak to you again."

"Would that really be such a bad thing?" Lenore asked before she fully thought out her words.

Pansy sat up on her knees and Lenore instantly regretted her word choice. "Would what be a bad thing? You liking Longbottom? Yes. Me never talking to you? Yes. Both are bad."

"No no no," Lenore clarified. "I meant you never talking to me. I don't fancy Neville."

"Good," Pansy said. "Even though he's a pureblood, you can do better."

"Pansy," Lenore said, rubbing her temples, "you and Circe are the only purebloods in our room. You're the only pureblood sitting in this hallway right now. We could all jump you."

"Alright, sorry," Pansy said. "I'm not saying purebloods are better—"

"You literally say that all the time," Odette interrupted.

Pansy glared over to her. "Yes… but anyone can fuck. Muggles do it. Primates do it. Anyone can do it."

"So, muggles and primates are the same to you?" Lenore challenged.

"What if you just fuck Longbottom," Blair said to stop the boiling argument, "to get all that sexual tension out of the way?"

"SEXUAL TENSION?" Lenore exclaimed. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

She stared at Blair like she had just said the most ridiculous, baseless accusation, which she did. There was absolutely no sexual tension between her and Neville. Neville was the least sexual person she talked to.

"We see the way he looks at you," Blair said. "I was just kidding about him fancying you before our prank on Randall. But then I saw you two together. They write songs about the way he looks at you."

"Yeah," Pansy said, "it's called 'I'll Be Watching You' by Poison Potion."

Her reference to an emo stalker song by a wizard band did not go over any of their heads.

"No," Blair said, "it's not creepy. It's sweet. It's like how Mallory looks at me."

Lenore tried not to laugh. Mallory looked at Blair like one would look at a television after watching for five hours— eyes glazed over, not really paying attention, but if a good commercial comes on, you sit up a little more.

"Mallory looks at you like he's thinking 'oh, this again?'," Pansy brushed aside. "Longbottom looks at Lenore like she's both Godzilla and the Queen. Her majesty, Queen Godzilla of Slytherin."

All Lenore could do was gape. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's sickening, really," Pansy continued. "I am proud no dumb male has ever looked at me like that. Can't let them get too attached. That's why I only fuck 'em."

"Yes," Odette said, "that's why…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pansy demanded. "You know what, never mind. I don't want to fight you when I could be fighting Lenore. Just take Blair's advice. Fuck him."

"Neville is not like that," Lenore said.

"Not like that? Len, every boy is like that," Blair said.

"No, she's right," Pansy said. "Neville isn't like that."

"Thank you, Pa—"

"Longbottom would cry the entire time you're having sex with him," Pansy said. She pretended to wipe tears away from her eyes. "Len!" She mimicked him thrusting and sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm s-s-so sorry. T-t-thank you!"

Lenore punched Pansy's arm, but her cheeks were already bright red. "Stop being so evil!"

Just then, the door to their room opened. Out walked Blaise Zabini.

Pansy's mouth fell open. "BLAISE?"

Lenore's face twisted itself into an almost demonic smile. Pansy would not like this. Lenore was practically giddy with excitement to witness the show that was about to go down.

"Oh fucking hell," Blaise exclaimed. "Hi Pans."

"Were you just with Circe?"

Circe came out into the hallway. "Hello, everyone! I'm so sorry to keep you all out here! I lost track of time."

"Blaise, you fucked Circe," Pansy said incredulously. "Do you know how many diseases she could have?"

"I don't have diseases," Circe scowled. "Like you should talk."

"Okay," Blaise said quickly, "well, I'm going to go."

He kissed Circe on forehead and rushed down the stairs.

Pansy stood with her mouth wide open.

"Close your mouth, Pansy," Blair said, "a bug might crawl in."

"I'm more worried about what's about to come out," Lenore said.

The girls filed into their room. Odette laid in her bed. Lenore sat on top of her dresser. Blair and Circe took a seat together on a trunk. They all watched Pansy, who was strangely silent. Her face was completely pinched up. She seemed to be deciding what to say. Would she be livid? Or jealous? Or just amazed? She stared at Circe.

"You slept with Blaise?"

She turned to Lenore. "And you made out with him?"

She finally sat down on her comforter, looking defeated. "I didn't know he was such a whore."

"He gets around," Lenore said.

"Don't say that!" Pansy said. "That's awfully judgmental of you."

Lenore laughed. "Pansy! You just called Blair a slut. And me a mega virgin. And you said Circe has STIs. That's judgmental about sex."

"As my mom says, ' _el que súbito se determina, súbito se arrepiente_!'" Odette said.

"Odette," Pansy exhausted, "speak English."

"Basically, hasty judgement leads to repentance," Odette translated.

Pansy gave her a look and turned to Circe. "To be honest, I thought Circe would be in here with Randall. So, Blaise was a relief."

"You thought I would be in here with a guy who hit me?" Circe gasped. "A guy I helped you all to punish?"

Lenore was not going to say the thought crossed her mind, as well. She would not put it past poor Circe to fall for that again. But her roommate did seem like a much strong person now that she had exacted her revenge on Randall.

"Hey," said Pansy, "like I said, I'm happy for you. You've upgraded."

Circe unclenched her jaw. "Thank you, I guess. Blaise is a lot better at that stuff, bel—"

Lenore quickly put her hands over her ears. "LA LA LA."

Pansy came over and removed Lenore's hands. "YOU'RE A PRUDE," she shouted with a smile on her face.


	10. Chapter 10: Hogsmeade and Hash

The vibrant flowers had burst into life after the long absence of snow. The sun shone brightly above a multitude of billowy white clouds. The wind blew a gentle breeze, causing the fresh grass to shudder.

It was nearly summertime at Hogwarts. The warm spring morning allowed perfect weather for a Hogsmeade trip. In Dumbledore's forced absence, deputy Headmaster Minerva McGonagall, against Umbridge's wishes, reinstated one last weekend down at the village before the start of O.W.L. testing. "The students need a break, to clear their young minds," she had told Umbridge. She angrily relented and the students cheered.

Two blonde girls, a red head, and a dark haired boy could be seen making the trek to the wizard village, in search of a day full of fun and adventures. They had no O.W.L.s to worry about, at least not until next year. The gang was on a mission.

"Derek," Margaux said early that morning while in line for the carriages, "you want to come dress shopping with us?"

"Why? You think I am fashionable?"

"No," Margaux laughed, "I know you aren't fashionable."

"You're right," Derek said as he closed his jacket with a dramatic flourish. Derek Davies was handsome a fourth year Ravenclaw. Unlike his older brother, Derek was not a smooth-talker. Roger was known around the castle for being a ladies man, so living in his older brother's shadow could be tough for Derek at times.

"For your information, Mar, I need new dress robes. You can help me. And the lads are being real gits. They've all got dates."

"Bleck," Margaux gagged, "I hate springtime and all this 'love in the air' shit."

"Oh god yes," Derek said. "Love is a product of capitalism."

"How do you figure?" Luna asked.

"Hallmark," was all Derek said.

Luna giggled. "Derek, you know you are a romantic."

"I am also capitalistic swine, so it makes sense."

The four boarded a carriage and made their way down to Hogsmeade. They shared a horse-drawn buggy with one of Derek's roommates and his girlfriend, a third year Hufflepuff. Neither of them talked, which made the four uncomfortable. When they exited the carriage on the main road of Hogsmeade, Margaux whispered to Derek, "Why did they not speak?"

"Ankur is shy," Derek said. "Especially around pretty girls like Gina. Extremely weird though, right?"

"Very."

"Especially since I caught them snogging like two rabbits in a corridor last week."

Margaux wiggled her nose. "She's like thirteen."

"Just a year below, she's actually fourteen. And so is he, for another week. But yeah, it's an odd relationship."

The four first made their way to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. The atmosphere was not unlike the last time the students made the trip to Hogsmeade for Valentine's Day, the only thing missing was the floating cherubs. The tables were still lined with frilly pink table clothes, roses in dusty vases, and red pillows on the seats. Gaudy paintings adorned the walls and lacy curtains covered the windows. Ginny, Luna, Derek, and Margaux sat down in a window table for a cup of morning tea before they would head off to Majmod and go formalwear shopping.

"So, Luna," Ginny said as she dipped her teabag in and out of the steaming water, "how's it going with that Hufflepuff who said you were cute the other day?"

"Who?" Luna stared with wide eyes. "Sivan?"

"Who? Sivan?" Derek mocked her tone. "Yes, Sivan."

Luna took a sip of her pink hibiscus tea. "No, Sivan is only a friend."

"Honey," Margaux said, "he can be more."

"Oh no, boys our age don't really like me."

"I like you, Looney," Derek said.

She grinned. "That's very kind, Derek."

"You know what I mean," Ginny said. "Sivan is a sweet boy, go after him."

Luna merely shrugged.

"What about you, Derek?" Margaux asked. "Anybody in your life?"

"I wish," Derek said. "My last snog was with Barnes, back in February."

"Why do you call him Barnes?" Ginny said. "Isn't that a bit formal?"

"His first name is Byron, tell me how sexy that is."

At that exact moment, Byron Barnes walked into Madam Puddifoot's with his gang of friends. He was a dashing boy, with a thick fade of black hair, smooth skin, and beautiful eyes. He made eye contact with Derek.

"Hello, Davies."

"Hello, Barnes."

And that was that. When he was out of earshot, Derek whispered, "He calls me 'Davies', isn't that hot?"

"How?" Ginny laughed.

"Nobody ever calls me 'Davies.' They all associate it with my brother. But he cares enough to know I'm not my brother, unlike all the other wankers at this school."

"Good for you," Margaux said. "That's nice."

"Yeah, it is! Oh hey, did you lot get your grade back for that DADA test?"

The three girls groaned.

"That is exactly how I feel," Derek said.

"A two rolls of parchment essay on vampire bats!" Ginny exclaimed. "I made it about one roll before I ran out of things to say and just started discussing regular bats."

"What did you make?" Derek asked.

"I'd rather not say."

"I made an Acceptable," Margaux said.

"Me, too," said Luna.

"I made an E," Derek said sheepishly.

"Merlin," Ginny whined, "I'm definitely not saying my grade now."

"Derek, you are the most Ravenclaw of all the Ravenclaws," Margaux said.

"Why d'you say that?"

"You are smart, creative, witty, all that junk. You too, Luna."

The blonde witch smiled. "Thank you. I can't imagine myself in another house."

"You could be a Gryffindor if you were ever angry," Derek teased.

"You are a Slytherin," Luna said.

"That's rude."

"Sorry," Luna giggled. "You are ambitious and clever."

"I'm a bad bitch," Derek said. "Mar and Gin, you are both Hufflepuff."

"Hey!" Margaux argued. "I think we are Ravenclaws."

"Honestly, same thing," Derek said.

The four finished up their tea and trekked down the hill towards Majmod, the off-priced store that all fashionable (and cheap) wizards shopped for their formalwear needs. The shop opened with the sound of a bell and almost at once, an overly-perky salesman swooped over the teens. After politely, and then insistently, declining his help, they made their way to the dress section for Margaux.

"What do you even need a dress for?" Derek asked.

Margaux practically screamed, "I'm going to a muggle dance!"

"No way!" Derek gasped.

"Yes! This public school down the road from me is having an end of term dance in June and I got invited."

"How'd you get invited?"

"A boy!" Ginny interrupted. "A muggle asked her!"

Derek's mouth fell open. "NO WAY."

"Yes! His name is Michael Sanders. We've been friends for a while. I met him during my first summer here. We write letters during the year."

"He doesn't think that's weird? Don't muggles talk on tellys?"

"Kind of, they talk on the phone. I guess he thinks it's quaint. He puts it in the mail with a fake address the ministry invented and the muggle mail people pass it on to the magic people and somehow my owl brings it! Not sure how it works, but I don't care. He asked me to his end of term dance."

"As friends or as a date?" Luna asked.

"As a date, I would imagine. But we're keeping it casual."

"Margaux!" Derek said. "This is so huge! You didn't go to the Yule Ball, did you?"

"No! A Durmstrang boy asked me, but my mom wanted us home for Christmas. I hope this makes up for it!"

She examined the hundreds of dresses on the racks. "My budget is sixteen galleons, so I'm avoiding high-end stuff."

"That's a good range," Ginny said. "You'll get something nice for that."

"Tell me about this Michael," Derek cooed as he flipped through some dresses. "What's he like? How'd you meet?"

"Well, we actually went to school together for two years," Margaux said. "I moved to the UK when I was nine and I went to year four and five here, in muggle public school. We didn't really know each other when we were that young, but we'd play together sometimes in gym class. A few years later, I was back from Hogwarts during winter break. It was last winter break, actually, when the Yule Ball was happening. I was out walking my dog and this boy is coming towards me with his dog. Our dogs tried to fight each other and Michael pulled his dog away, but he slipped on some ice. He let go of his dog and it ran away, scared of my dog. I helped Michael up and chased after his dog. He remembered me from school and we got to talking and we've been writing letters ever since!"

"Merlin's beard," Derek said, "it's like a romance novel. What does he look like?"

"Dark brown hair, brilliant blue eyes, kind of short. Probably about Seamus's height. He swims for his school, so he's pretty tan."

"He's fit," Ginny said. "She's shown us a picture."

Derek smiled. "Ooo, you go. Are you doing a color scheme or not matching?"

"He said to pick out my dress and he'd just wear a tie in a similar shade."

By this point, Margaux had a stack of dresses so heavy her arms grew unsteady. "I'm going to try these on."

She entered the dingy fitting room and selected a short pale pink dress with silver beads on the waist to try first. She got it over her head and modeled the outfit for her three friends. They all ooo'ed and ahh'ed, but Margaux was not satisfied. Next up was a green dress with a long flowy skirt and a sequined top. Luna reacted well to the sparkly top. Roughly twelve dresses later, Derek was no where to be found. He slipped over to the suit section about five dresses in.

"Dress number thirteen!" Margaux announced.

When she emerged from the dressing room, Ginny and Luna's mouths fell open. Margaux was clad in a long tight dress with a maroon ballgown skirt and a lacy cream-colored long sleeve top. Her back was slightly exposed, but it was a fairly modest dress, which was surprising, considering how beautiful it looked on her.

"Margaux!" Ginny shouted. "Yes! Get that one!"

Luna called for Derek across the store.

"What?" Derek yelled back. "I've seen enough! They all look the same!"

"Just come here!" Ginny said.

Derek's head peered over a rack of dresses. "Holy shit," he said as his eyes took in Margaux. "That looks so good."

"Thanks!" Margaux grinned.

"How much is it?" Ginny asked.

Margaux checked the price tag. "Eighteen galleons."

"That's over your budget."

"I'll chip in my own money," Margaux said. "It's worth it for this dress."

"It really is," Ginny agreed. "How much was it originally?"

Margaux examined the tag a little closer. It was on clearance at Majmod, down even more from the already low price of the high-end shop it originated. "Thirty-seven galleons, holy shit."

"Snap it up!" Derek said as he inched his way back to the dress robes.

"I will!" Margaux said.

She helped Derek select a nicely cut black suit for his mother's wedding that summer and the pair checked out at the counter. The pushy salesman offered them accessories at a discounted price, but they politely refused. As they exited, Derek checked his watch. "We've still got an hour."

"Want to go to the Three Broomsticks?" Luna suggested.

The four vigorously nodded and made their way down the street. To her right, Margaux heard a voice calling for her.

"Margaux!" Lenore waved to her sister.

Margaux crossed the main road to greet Lenore, Katie, and Angelina. "Hey," Lenore said. "Have you seen Neville?"

"No," replied her sister.

"Oh, well if you do, tell him I've got something for him. What's in the bag?"

"A dress! For that dance I'm going to with Michael."

"Oh yeah!" Lenore said. "Let's see!"

Margaux opened up the plastic bag to reveal her selected red outfit. Lenore gasped. "It's beautiful! I bet it looks so cute on you!"

"It does," Margaux said confidently. "Thank you!"

"Where'd you get the money?"

Margaux puffed up her chest. "Mom gave me money."

Lenore furrowed her eyebrows. "What? How much?"

"Fifteen galleons."

"Fifteen galleons! Mom gave you fifteen galleons? For a stupid dress?"

"Yes," Margaux said. "So what?"

"So, that's like eighty-five pounds! A hundred dollars!"

"Wow, look at you doing math."

Lenore smacked the dress bag out of her sister's arms. "Hush! Why don't I get to buy something for myself?"

Margauc picked up her dress and gave her sister a kick in the shin. "Do you have a date?"

Lenore crossed her arms. "No."

"Then too bad."

With a playfully wicked grin, Margaux left her sister standing in the middle of the street and returned to her friends. As Ginny swung open the doors to The Three Broomsticks, noise exploded onto their ears. The room buzzed with activity. Every student at Hogwarts seemed to be inside enjoying a frothy beverage. The four ordered their drinks, then searched the room for a table. All of them were filled to the brim. Not an empty seat in the house.

"Margaux," called a voice behind her.

Dean came around to her front and shot a dazzling smile. "Would you all like to sit with us?"

"Have you got room?" she asked.

"Plenty," he pointed to a corner booth designed for at probably ten people. Presently, only Seamus and Neville took up space in the large booth.

"What's happening, mates?" Seamus greeted.

"Not much," Margaux smiled.

Luna slid in first, next to Neville. "Hello, Neville," she said.

"Hey, Luna!" he replied. "How are you?"

"Good!" she smiled. "And yourself?"

"Good."

"Have you talked to Lenore lately?"

"Umm," he glanced around at the table. Luna knew vaguely of his crush on Lenore. Panic set in. "N-no, why?"

"She said she has something for you."

"Oh," the boy said with incredible relief. "Okay, I'll keep my eye out for her."

Luna smiled knowingly. "How are you all today?"

"Couldn't be better," Seamus cheered with his glass of butterbeer.

"Brilliant," Dean said.

"Good," Margaux said, "until I saw Lenore heading this way."

Her older sister and her friends marched up to the table. Lenore folded her arms. "You thought you could run away," she accused. "I knew I'd find you here."

Margaux smiled. "And I really that predictable?"

"Yes," Lenore and Dean said at the same time.

Margaux laughed and shouldered Dean. "I'd give you the left over money, Len, but there is none."

"Well, thanks. I'll buy myself an invisible butterbeer."

"There you go," Margaux said. "You did get something about of this."

"What?"

"An opportunity to make sarcastic comments."

"I do appreciate that," Lenore grinned.

"Why don't you all sit down?" Dean offered. "Everybody squish in."

The three girls joined the group. The booth was now full to the brim of people.

"Hey, Dean," Angelina said, "you been following much quidditch lately?"

"Not really," Dean admitted. "I've been more on a football kick as of late. I've heard Appleby is on top, though."

"We can discuss football," Angelina said. "I'm sure Lenore is quite tired of quidditch talk." She shot her friend a warm smile.

"No!" Lenore said. "If anything, football is worse."

Dean tilted his head and feigned offense. "You got a problem with football?"

"Don't you find it boring?"

"I do," Seamus announced. "Bunch of fellows kick a ball down a field? Can't stand it."

Dean plugged his ears. "I'm not listening to this!"

Lenore laughed. "I like hockey."

Angelina and Katie agreed. "Now _that_ is a good muggle sport," Angelina said. "Good, clean violence."

"There is literally no difference between football and hockey. Both are 'fellows' pushing something towards a goal."

"Yeah," Lenore sipped her drink, "but how often does football have to stop to let two guys beat the daylights out of each other?"

"More often than you'd think."

"All the good athletes have a few teeth missing," Katie said.

Derek and Margaux looked at each other. Margaux was utterly lost. Derek lived for quidditch, but had no idea how muggle sports were played. "Can we please have a new topic?" Margaux asked.

"Lenore," Luna said sweetly, "you had something for Neville?"

"Oh yeah! Thanks for reminding me!" She turned to Neville, who gulped. "You left your textbook in Care of Magical Creatures yesterday. I'm fairly certain it's yours at least. If not, it's yours, Seamus."

"I've got mine," Seamus said.

"It's mine," Neville said. "I wondered where it went. I went back to look for it and it was gone. Thank you so much."

"Yeah," Lenore smiled. "No problem. I'll get it for you when we get back."

"How about another topic?" Derek requested.

Angelina pointed at him. "Are you Roger's brother?

"Yes," Derek said. Only Margaux could detect this annoyance.

"You look like him," Katie said. "Somehow not as stuck up. But more cheeky."

Derek felt genuinely flattered. "Thank you," he said proudly.

"So, what do you want to discuss, Cheeky Davies?" Angelina asked.

"Anybody got any good gossip?" he asked.

"I do," Seamus raised his hand. "I heard Flitwick and Sinistra are boinking."

"Boinking?" Katie laughed. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Justin Finch-Finchley told me he saw them making out in the staffroom."

"How would that work, logistically?" Angelina asked, referring to Flitwick's stature.

"Flitwick was on the table."

The table roared with laughter.

"Who else has gossip?"

"I saw Lucian Bole wearing ladies underwear," Lenore said.

"NO!" Dean burst out. "HOW'D YOU SEE?"

"He was wearing low cut pants and when he sat down, I saw red satin knickers sticking out of his pants."

"Me, too," Derek whispered to Margaux.

"You do not," she laughed.

"No, if I were a sitcom character, that's what I would say."

"I see you whispering, Cheeky," Angelina said. "Tell us some gossip you have."

Derek thought a moment. "The second year Ravenclaw boys sometimes take 'power showers.'"

"What's a power shower?"

"They wank each other off in the communal showers. They claim it's not gay, it's just for laughs. It's a very posh thing to do."

"What the fuck?" Lenore shouted.

Derek shrugged. "They think it's funny."

The girls mouths all hung open. "What. The. Fuck," Lenore repeated.

"Neville and I used to do that," Seamus announced. "Isn't that right, Neville ol' buddy?"

Neville turned bright red. "Nope."

"No power showers?" Angelina teased Neville.

The boy stared at his hands on the table and shook his head, which made Angelina laugh.

"I've heard another rumor like that, though," Seamus said. "I've heard…" His voice grew low. "…Seamus Finnigan is hung."

The table groaned. "Where'd you hear that from?" Katie asked.

"From myself," Seamus said.

"Hush, Seamus," Dean said, "we all hear you violently beat it in the shower."

Seamus clapped his mouth shut and glared at Dean. "Turns you on, doesn't it?"

"OKAY," Margaux interjected. "Moving on. Penelope Clearwater and Daphne Greengrass got into a fist fight last Thursday."

"I heard that!" Lenore said. "Daphne lost a huge chunk of her hair."

"Yeah! Penelope said Daphne called her a freak and she went off on her."

The gang gabbed on like that until it was time to board the carriages. Margaux, Ginny, Luna, and Derek were left behind as the six older students rode back up the hill towards Hogwarts. While they disembarked, Lenore said, "Hey, Neville, do you have time to come get your book?"

"Yeah," he said. "I-I can follow you."

She led him down to the dungeons.

"So," she smiled. "How have you been?"

"Good," he returned her grin. "What about you?"

"Good. It's been a minute since we've talked."

Neville gave her a blank look.

"It's been a while."

"Oh! Yeah, it has. Probably... two weeks."

"Well with O.W.L.s coming up, I don't blame us."

Neville nodded silently.

"Did you miss me?" she teased.

He laughed. "Did you miss me?"

"Yeah," she smiled.

His lips parted as he turned to look at her. "D-did you really? Or are you joking?"

"Sure I did," she laughed. "It's weird for me to go weeks without talking to somebody. But I've been all over the place lately. I haven't talked to Leanne in nearly two weeks, either. I miss spending time outside of the library."

"Me, too," he nearly whispered.

Lenore smiled before she ducked through the Slytherin entrance. Neville waited in the hall, as the Slytherin common room was strictly off limits to all students not sporting green and silver robes. Technically, all common rooms were off limits to other houses, but Slytherin was the only one that ever enforced the rule. Neville stood off to the side, avoiding eye contact with any of the intimidating Slytherins.

Lenore ran up the stairs to her room. When she entered, she heard Pansy's voice. "Don't you think Millicent is getting a bit fat?"

Circe did not reply. She continued to brush her hair and stared blankly down at her dresser.

"I told her to quit eating all those dinner rolls. She's porking right up."

Lenore tried her hardest to ignore this conversation.

"She doesn't even feel bad about it," Pansy exclaimed. "Honey, if I were her size, I'd kill myself."

"Okay, stop," Lenore finally said. "Why are you talking about one of your best friends like that?"

Pansy grinned maliciously. "You used to be fat, Lenore. Tell us your secrets and I'll pass them on to Millicent."

"You used to be chunky, too," Lenore blurted out before thinking. "Don't even start with that."

In one swift motion, Pansy slammed the Care of Magical Creatures textbook out of Lenore's hands and on to the floor with a loud thud. Pages exploded from the cover, scattering the room in a snow shower of yellowed paper. Nearly all five hundred pages spread across the floor.

"This isn't my book, you cow!" Lenore yelled.

She dropped to her knees and started gathering the papers into a pile. The page numbers fell all out of order and the binding was so loose that the papers shifted around inside. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Sorry," Pansy shrugged.

She exited the room, no doubt to go sit in the other fifth year Slytherin girls' room. Lenore cussed under her breath. She had no idea what spell to use to bind the book together. Surely there was a way. She searched her brain.

"Circe, do you know how to fix this?"

"I'm so sorry," she replied, "I wish I could help. I would say _reparo_ , but I doubt it'll work. That was a bitchy move by Pansy."

"You're telling me," Lenore huffed. "I guess I have to give it back like this."

Lenore and the heap of parchment hurried down the stairs to the corridor outside the dungeons. Mortified, she held up the mangled book to Neville.

He eyed the stack and then Lenore. "Is… is this my textbook?"

"Yes, I'm so sorry," Lenore begged for forgiveness. "It was perfectly fine until about three minutes ago. Pansy knocked it out of my hands."

"I'd say she did a little more than knock it," Neville said. "More like she beat the shit out of it. Why?"

"She was talking about how Millicent is 'getting fat' and I told her to stop. She said that I used to be fat. I pointed out that she used to be chunky, too. I shouldn't have said that, but it came out before I could think." She shoved the book into his hands. "I don't know how to fix it. I'm really so sorry. I can ask around and get help. I already asked Circe and she didn't know, but I'm sure maybe McGonagall would know. Or even Snape, I could ask him or Angelina. Or I could give you my copy of the book, I don't mind. Why don't I go—"

"Len," Neville said softly, "it's okay, really. I'll figure out how to fix it."

Lenore talked too much when she got nervous. She was relieved that he stopped her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, it's not a problem. Better to have pieces of a textbook than not one at all."

"It should all be there," Lenore said. "It's just out of order."

"I'll figure it out. Don't worry about it. Thank you."

Lenore smiled. "You're welcome. Sort of."

"I am welcome."

He cringed as the awkward phrase left his mouth. Lenore laughed. "I'm still sorry."

"No," he assured her. His brown eyes widened as he stared at her. "It's fine. Perfectly fine. You destroyed my book for justice."

She smiled. "Alright. I can live with that."

He adjusted the paper inside the book and she pointed to the binding. "If you need help putting the pages in order, I'll sit down with you and do it."

"No," he said. "I-I can do it, no problem."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

She smiled softly. "Okay. Thank you for understanding. I'm really so sorry."

"Don't worry one bit. I'm sorry Pansy treated you that way. She obviously thought this was your book."

Lenore pouted. "You're sweet. Thank you. I've got to go do homework. I'll let you get started on fixing that mess. Bye, Nev."

"Bye," he returned the smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm going to the library real quick!" Ginny said as she exited the carriage. "I'll be up in the room in a little bit. I've got to check out a book."

"Sounds good," Margaux waved.

She gathered her dress bag and trekked to the Gryffindor tower. The common room, remained relatively deserted. Only a few younger kids milled about, but everyone was either in their rooms or returning from Hogsmeade.

As Margaux opened the door to her dormitory, the bitter scent of a skunk's spray overwhelmed her nose. She sneezed. On the bed across the room, Kandence Liu sat with a rolled joint in her hand. When she saw Margaux, she quickly hid it behind her back.

"Kadence!" Margaux coughed. "Are you smoking?"

"No!" Kadence proclaimed.

Margaux stared at the girl. Her natural red pixie cut laid wildly on top of her head. Her eyes nearly matched her hair color and she was unable to focus on Margaux.

"You are!" Margaux said. "It smells terrible in here!"

"You caught me," Kadence shrugged.

Margaux fanned the air with her arm. "What the hell? How long have you been doing drugs?"

"'Doing drugs'," Kadence quoted. She fell into a fit of giggles. "Dragon's hash is hardly a drug."

Margaux looked at Kadence like she was an idiot. She began to change out of her Hogsmeade clothes and into a more comfortable set of lounge clothes. "Um, yes it is a drug. It's illegal. The Ministry has banned it."

"Oh please," Kadence said, "it's no worse than the muggle marijuana."

Margaux started to open her mouth, but another roommate, Helaine Benson, cracked open the door.

"Oh my goddd, girl…" Helaine said, plugging her nose. "What is that smell?"

"Kade is doing drugs," Margaux announced.

"Merlin's beard, I can tell. Kade, why are you smoking?"

Kadence hopped off her red duvet and took a long puff of her rolled paper. "Because I like how it makes me feel. I'm going out tonight."

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"You've mentioned that," Margaux folded her arms.

"Ankur Puri is having a little get together in his dorm."

"What the heck?" Margaux said. "I bet Derek doesn't know about that. Ankur is a shy guy, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but he's got a great hook-up," Kadence said.

Margaux rolled her eyes. So, the meek little kid was a drug dealer. He was not really a kid, he was the same year as the girls. However, he just felt younger because of his introverted personality.

"He's got some… adderall, I think is what the muggles call it," offered Kadence. "It's to help you focus on studying."

"No, I'm fairly certain that is _not_ what it is for," Margaux said. "Wait, you've taken something without knowing the name?"

A knock came on their door. The girls jumped up.

"Shit," Helaine hissed. "What do we do?"

Margaux quickly removed her wand from her robes and sprayed a fresh scent of lavender across the room. "Open it," she said.

Helaine opened the door with a bright smile. On the other side of the threshold stood prefect Hermione Granger. Margaux's stomach nearly flipped out of her mouth.

"Hi!" Hermione said. "Just reminding you all that we have a house meeting tonight at seven. That's in ten minutes in the common room."

"Thank you!" Helaine said sweetly. "We'll be there!"

Hermione smiled. "Also, good job keeping your room tidy! It smells great in here."

As she closed the door, the three girls finally exhaled the breath they had been holding. "Ten minutes?" Margaux exclaimed. "Kade, we can't sober you up in ten minutes!"

"She is not going to that meeting!" Helaine said. "You are staying right here."

She led Kadence to her bed and pulled the curtains closed. "You hurry up and finish that joint. Get rid of the evidence. She won't even notice you aren't here."

Nine minutes later, Hermione asked from her place in the middle of the common room, "Where's Kadence?"

Margaux and Helaine looked at each other. "She… should be coming. Let me go get her."

Margaux ran up to their room and shook Kadence. Her Dragon's Hash joint was now completely gone. "Kade! You have to come downstairs."

"I can't," Kadence replied. Her eyes glazed over. "I'm seeing things."

"No, Kade," Margaux picked her up off the bed. "Just come downstairs and close your eyes. You can do this."

The two girls stumbled down the stairs. As they became visible, Hermione said, "good! We can get started!"

She flipped through a few papers as Ron stood behind her, looking lost. "I bet you are all wondering why we called this meeting, especially after a fun day out. This is merely a reminder that next week is the final normal week before O.W.L.s. I'm going to go over the changes to your schedule in two weeks. This will affect everyone, not just fifth years, so listen up!"

Kadence and Margaux remained in the back, near the stairs. Next to the pair stood Verona Antar and Ginny. "This is like a meeting of the Five Families," Verona said.

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"The five major mafia families in New York City. But instead of the Luccheses and Gambinos, you've got the Head Boy and Girl, the quidditch captain, and the male and female prefects."

"Angelina doesn't have anything to do with these meetings," Ginny said. "She's too busy with quidditch."

"You get the idea," Verona said.

From behind them, Kadence suddenly let out a loud gasp. They turned to face her. "What's wrong with her?" Ginny hissed to Margaux, who was holding Kadence upright.

Helaine leaned in and whispered, "She took some drugs because she forgot about this meeting. She's going out tonight."

"No!" Verona said. "Oh my god, I see it in her eyes. Keep her quiet."

Margaux placed a hand over Kadence's mouth. Hermione droned on about the changing location of classrooms. Margaux felt someone nudge her shoulder. She looked to her right to see Seamus.

"She's high, isn't she?" he grinned.

"Shhh…" Margaux chastised. "Shut up, don't draw attention."

"Ask her who her supplier is," Seamus said. "I've been looking. For a friend, of course."

"It's Ankur Puri," Margaux replied. She realized after a moment she should not have told Seamus. Releasing that information did not exactly go with her anti-drug platform.

"Ankur?" Seamus asked. "That skinny little nerd sells drugs?"

Hermione's voice grew louder. "Is everything okay back there?" she peered over the crowd.

Margaux stiffened. "Yes! So sorry!"

"We're almost done, I promise," Ron said.

After shooting Ron a death glare, Hermione continued. Kadence's eyes hovered wide open, staring at the ceiling like it was a movie. She stood completely motionless.

"Alright, thank you for your time!" Hermione said after a few more minutes. "Everyone who is not a fifth year may go!"

Margaux rushed her roommate up the stairs and shoved her on to the bed. "Sit here a minute while the room clears. Then you can go over to Ravenclaw."

Kadence laid on her bed and began talking wildly. "You ever wonder why witches hats are pointy? I'd like to know why. Is is a metaphor? Do the points mean something? Or what if someone just decided the point was fashionable? I bet it was McGonagall. I bet she invented the pointy witches hat. But she's probably too young. Unless she's a time traveller. I wouldn't put it past her, honestly."

"Kadence, hush," Verona said.

The girl sat in silence as her roommates watched her eyelids flutter. She was not extremely stoned, but someone could definitely tell she was high.

"You can probably go now," Margaux said. "But for the love of Merlin, be careful."

Kadence hopped out of bed, grabbed her purse, and exited.

"Merlin," Ginny said, "I had no idea she did drugs."

"I think it's a recent thing," Margaux said.

"She's started hanging around those Ravenclaws. Ankur, Gina, Evan, Beatrix. They all smoke," Verona pointed out.

"Damn," Margaux said. "I've never done drugs. Or even seen someone on drugs."

All the girls nodded along with her, except Helaine. "My brother used to smoke Dragon's hash. It's mostly harmless, she's right. As long as she doesn't start experimenting with other drugs, she'll be fine."

"We should watch her and make sure," Ginny suggested.

"Agreed," Verona said. "Now, does anyone want to get dinner?"

"Is it sundown?" Margaux searched around for a window.

"No," Verona said, "but don't worry, I can sit with you guys before I go to the Ramadan meal."

Margaux was constantly impressed with Hogwarts ability to hold a special meal after sundown for those fasting during late May and early June. "Okay!" she grinned. "Let's go!"

Margaux, Helaine, Verona and Ginny enjoyed a fine chat in the Great Hall after a long day at Hogsmeade.


	11. Chapter 11: Pride and Prats

**Hey y'all! Thank you so much for reading. I really enjoyed writing this. The Neville/Lenore relationship is really heating up, and so is the Dean/Margaux tryst in the next chapter. I already have quite a few future chapters written, so I will publish more very soon! If you have an comments, please leave a review! I'll give you a shoutout on the next chapter I post. Thanks so much! :)**

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"I'm so excited for this party tonight!" Katie Bell announced as she clutched her notebook to her chest.

"We need a little kickback after all this nonsense with Umbridge," Angelina said. "I'm about to kill her myself. If only I could figure out a way for Jack Sloper to hit her with a bludger while she's sitting in the stands. But that stupid bloke can't even aim a bludger away from the team."

Lenore laughed. "I saw him play a at the last game against Hufflepuff. Him and Andrew were the brunt of about a thousand jokes in the Slytherin common room."

"I'd laugh with them," Angelina said as she sipped her to-go cup of honey tea. "I swear to Merlin, they don't listen to me."

"They don't," Katie said. "I watch them goof around while you're speaking."

Angelina groaned. "Slap them for me next time."

"You've only got one more game. And it's against Ravenclaw. They are terrible this season. Ginny is doing so great from what I hear!" Lenore fawned.

"Oh my god," Angelina agreed, "I know! She's got her heart in it, unlike Sloper and Kirke."

The girls parted ways at a staircase after dinner. "I'll see you tonight!" Lenore waved to her best friends.

"Bye, Len!" the Gryffindor girls said in unison.

Lenore hurried up to the Slytherin Common room. She did not know why she was in any rush. Dinner had only recently ended and the party was not set to start for at least another two hours. Lenore decided to sit in the Common Room for about an hour and finish her homework. She easily completed her work, but got stuck on Herbology. All the plants looked the same to her. " _How the ruddy hell am I supposed to know the difference between 'rubbery leaves' and 'glossy leaves',_ " she thought to herself. She closed her textbook and decided to get ready for the party.

After a long shower, she sat on her bed and let her hair air dry as she read Blair's copy of _Witch Weekly_. When her hair was only a little damp, she used her usual spell to make her long, golden brown hair dry and straight. She clipped back her bangs and decided that would be good enough.

She opened her makeup drawer and searched around for her foundation. It was nowhere to be found. The only logical explanation was that Pansy took it. They were the only girls in the room with similar skin tones and Pansy had taken it before.

"Hey, Pansy," Lenore asked. "Have you seen my foundation?"

"No," Pansy said. "Why? Are you accusing me of something?"

"No," Lenore said. "Has anyone seen my foundation?"

All the girls shook their heads.

"Are you sure you haven't seen it, Pansy?" she asked.

"No. Stop accusing me. I saw Blair with it."

"Blair?" Lenore's eyes grew in disbelief.

"Oh wait!" Blair said, hopping off her bed. She rummaged around her bag and pulled out Lenore's bottle of foundation. "Is this is? I borrowed it to use as a highlighter."

"Shit, Blair," Lenore said, taking it from her outstretched hand, "did you want to highlight yourself to be seen from outer space?"

"Nah!" Blair said. "You're the perfect shade to use right under the arch of my eyebrows. I honestly thought it was called highlighter, I'm sorry. I only used a tiny bit. Thanks."

"No problem," Lenore said. She dabbed at the open container and patted some onto her face.

"Ahem," Pansy coughed.

Lenore turned to her. "Pansy, I am sorry."

"Thank you," the pale girl remarked indignantly.

Lenore carried on applying her makeup. She hated wearing it, but she loved putting it on. Her face felt like an artist's canvas. Of course, she was nowhere near as good at makeup as Circe. Circe's face always looked flawless. Her eyeliner sharply winged, her lips lined in a matte red, even her eyelashes never looked clumpy. Lenore wished she could do her makeup like Circe's. But for tonight, her eyeliner was penciled on decently, her lips filled in with a dusty rose color, and her eyelashes miraculously not clumpy or spidery. She felt good about her abilities.

"Where are you going that you're putting on this much makeup?" Odette asked.

Lenore glanced at Pansy. She would no doubt invite herself to this party. Lenore considered lying, but she knew Pansy would find out somehow and be mad at her for not inviting her.

"A party in the Gryffindor tower," she said plainly.

"A party?" Pansy perked up.

Lenore nodded. She was right, Pansy wanted to attend.

"You're not supposed to be out past curfew," Pansy stated. "I could report you to the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad."

"Pansy," Lenore sighed, "do you want to come to the party?"

Pansy grinned. "I would love to, thanks for the invite."

Lenore swirled a bit of blush onto her cheeks. "If anybody asks, I didn't invite you."

"Trust me," Pansy said, "I don't exactly like being associated with you either."

Lenore laughed. "Just don't make a big deal about this Inquisitorial Squad thing."

"But I am a big deal," Pansy said as she exited the room to wash her face.

Lenore put on loose black crop top and let it hang over a pair of high-waisted black pants. She added some nude sandals and a long chained necklace.

"Are you going to a party or a funeral?" Blair asked.

"Every party she goes to is a funeral," Odette said, "because the sight of her gives boys heart attacks."

The girls laughed. "That is the dumbest thing you've have ever said," Lenore giggled. "But thank you."

When Lenore Henry walked into the Gryffindor common room, Neville felt his chest beat rapidly. He didn't know why he did not expect her to attend the pre-O.W.L's party, considering her best friends were Gryffindors, but the sight of her still surprised him. She was gorgeous and happy, as usual.

"Hey, Margaux," she waved.

Margaux was clad in a sleeveless peach colored blouse and an orange skirt. It went well with her warm skin tone.

"You look goth," she told her sister. "Like a goth business professional."

Lenore shook her head. "These pants are the same material as leggings. They aren't that fancy. You look cute, by the way."

"Thank you," Margaux grinned. "And you do pull off this goth look very well."

"Mom said I have to work this summer, because she's not buying my clothes anymore."

"Call her bluff," Margaux said. "Walk around in the nude and she'll be forced to buy you clothes."

"Yeah right," Lenore mused. "You know what she would say? 'I don't give a rat's ass if you show your tits to the world, I'm not buying you anything over five pounds.'"

"Spot on," Margaux said, sipping her drink. "I'll be enjoying my last year of free clothing by shopping like crazy."

At that moment, Lenore spotted Katie and Angelina. "Got to go, bye Margaux!"

Lenore made her way over to her friends. Angelina was also clad in all black, so Lenore felt more comfortable in her outfit selection.

"Are you drinking tonight?" Katie asked Lenore.

"A little bit, I think," Lenore said. "I'm not really in the mood to get drunk."

"Good!" Angelina said as she swigged down the bottom of her drink. "You get to be the designated sane one tonight!"

Lenore smiled. "I'm honored."

"Stop me from snogging anybody," Katie said.

"I will," Lenore promised.

"Help me find somebody to snog," Angelina said.

Lenore scanned the room. "You don't want to snog George?"

Angelina poured herself another cup of firewhisky from an open bottle near the group. "I might, but he's not my main target."

"How about Cormac McLaggen?" Lenore suggested. "He's fit."

"Yuck," Angelina said. "I need somebody vulnerable, somebody where I can be in charge."

"Kenneth Towler?" proposed Lenore.

Angelina's impish grin grew wide. "Perfect. Let me get a few more sips in and it's hello to Ken."

Lenore laughed. Poor Kenneth was cute, with his tanned Greek skin and dark curly locks, but terribly shy. As a roommate of Fred and George's, he often found himself at the brunt of their experiments.

"If you're not careful, you're going to make George jealous," Katie giggled.

"Oh, pshhhhh," Angelina exhaled. "George can handle himself. Look, he's talking to Mary Moretti right now. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a nervous boy to snog."

Angelina left Lenore and Katie alone. They watched as Angelina made her way towards Kenneth. The Gryffindor's eyes nearly popped out of his head as Angelina tried her best flirting moves on him. Within no time, they were making out on a study table.

Katie giggled. "Maybe I should get someone to make out with. You're only young once."

"Who would you want?" Lenore scanned the common room. "Anthony? Jack? Seamus?"

Before Katie could reply, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hi, Katie," smiled the Ravenclaw Terry Boot.

Lenore raised her eyebrows and gave Katie a gleeful look.

"Hi, Terry," Katie replied sweetly. "How are you?"

"I'm great," he said. "I-I was actually wondering if you would want to dance?"

Katie looked at Lenore.

"Go ahead!" Lenore said brightly.

Katie and Terry made their way to the dance floor. Lenore was now completely alone. She considered going over to her sister and Luna, but reconsidered when she saw their friend Derek Davies from Ravenclaw speaking to them. Lenore did not want to interrupt, so she scanned the room for more faces. She spotted Neville talking to a very drunk Oliver Rivers. Her eyes grew wide. What were they doing together?

Oliver had asked Lenore out about two months ago and when she turned him down he called her a "last resort," so needless to say she was angry with him. Oliver was a good-looking guy, with his perfect teeth, baby blue eyes, thick dark hair, and fit body, but he was a complete prat. He was a disrespectful know-it-all who never knew when to shut up and he treated everyone as his inferior. He thought he was so smart, but the truth is, nearly every Ravenclaw was smarter than him.

Neville looked highly uncomfortable. He was no doubt the victim of one of Oliver's famous speeches, where he lectured on and on about subjects nobody cared about, from the water sewage system of ancient Mesopotamia or how the current geopolitical climate affects Greenland's city councils. Oliver threw out facts, but no analysis. He was not smart, he just knew facts. Lenore decided to rescue Neville and say hello.

Neville sat up straighter when he saw Lenore coming toward him. He wished Oliver would go away. He did not want to be talking to him in the first place. The Ravenclaw sat down, uninvited, next to him and drunkenly talked his ear off.

"Hi, Neville," Lenore said. He gave a soft "hi" in return. Before she could greet Oliver, he spoke.

"Hello, Norie," Oliver cooed. He took her hand and kissed it, but she slid away from him quickly.

"Rivers," she nodded towards him. "How are you?"

"I'm drunk," he slurred.

Lenore looked at Neville, who pressed his lips in, then back to Oliver's bright blue eyes smiling at her. For a split second, she felt herself attracted to him, but she pushed that aside. "That's not what I meant, but sure. What are you drinking?"

"A little bit o' everything," he showed her his goblet. She examined its contents. It appeared that he mixed everything he could find, as a dark brown liquid swirled around his cup.

"That looks awful," she said.

"It doesn't have to taste good, it only has to get me drunk."

Lenore laughed. "You're an idiot."

Oliver finished off his drink with a huge gulp and a shudder. He leaned in close to Lenore's ear and whispered, in a low, seductive tone, "You wanna get out of here?"

Her mouth dropped open. She shot a gander towards Neville. He obviously had not heard, but he watched the pair. For the briefest moment, Lenore considered going somewhere with Oliver. Everyone else seemed to be snogging a guy tonight. Pansy had been nagging her to get a guy and she almost wanted to— even if it was Oliver. Then, Lenore realized how stupid that was. She would not be peer pressured, especially by Pansy Parkinson. Lenore was better than that. And she was definitely better than Oliver Rivers.

Before she could say no, she felt Oliver's soft lips kiss the skin by her ear. She drew a sharp breath, but didn't have time to react before he quickly moved to her lips. She gasped as he just barely brushed his lips across the corner of her bottom lip. Oliver Rivers had just kissed her. She backed away immediately and Oliver slipped off the table on which he sat, landing with a thud on his intoxicated feet.

"Go away," she said calmly.

Oliver threw up his hands. "Okay, whatever. Miss your chance again!"

"Fine by me!" Lenore called after him.

She turned to Neville and crossed her arms. Her entire body was shaking. Oliver Rivers had just kissed her. Kind of. He didn't touch her top lip at all, but something about it was just unsettling. She hadn't said no, but she definitely didn't tell him yes. That was her second kiss. Right in the middle of the common room with a prat who called her a last resort. She took this vague feeling of disgust off her mind and turned to Neville.

"So, how are you tonight?"

A confused look spread across his face. "What just happened?"

He obviously had not seen. Their faces were at a strange angle, Neville must not have seen her. Lenore closed her eyes and took a breath. "He asked if I wanted to go make out with him." She opened her eyelids to witness Neville's shocked face. "And then he kissed right here," she pointed to her jaw.

Neville could feel his stomach grow heavy. "O-oh."

"Yeah…" she said, climbing on the table next to him. "And... he kissed my lips, kind of."

Neville's eyes widened. "He kissed your lips?"

She nodded. "Yeah... just barely. Just my bottom lip. The corner, right here."

"Merlin, Len," he said urgently, "are you... is that... did you... want him to?"

She shook her head. "No. But whatever. He's gross. It was barely a kiss. I obviously didn't kiss him back."

"I-f you want me to knock out Rivers, I will," Neville said. "I'm serious. What the hell?"

Lenore smiled. "Thanks, but it's okay. He's just an arse. I think he was trying to flirt. But enough about him. Tell me about you! How are you?"

"I'm good," Neville said. His shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit. "Len, really. If... if he tries something again and you don't like it, tell me. Or just punch him yourself. That's not okay."

She nodded and sighed. "I know. It just freaked me out for a second. I panicked. It happened so fast, I wasn't expecting it. And I'm just the teensiest bit tipsy, so my reflexes aren't as fast. But I told him off there at the end. It's fine."

Neville bit his cheek. "Okay. As long as you're okay."

"I'm fine."

Neville watched her for a moment. "Because, really. Y-you don't deserve to be treated like that."

"I know," she smiled softly. "Nobody does. Thank you for reminding me."

Neville returned her gentle smile and her grin widened.

"Anyway," she said, "are you liking this party?"

He shrugged. "Ummm, honestly it's kind of boring."

"It really is," Lenore agreed. "Have you been drinking?"

"No," Neville said.

"That's probably why," she teased. "I only had two drinks, but it still blows."

She pointed to Angelina dancing wildly in the middle of the floor with Slytherin quidditch captain Graham Montague. They appeared to be in competition. Angelina fell to the ground and popped back up. The crowd went wild.

"I think you need at least seven drinks to make it fun," she said.

"Anything can be fun with seven drinks, _Norie,_ " he quoted Oliver.

Lenore cringed. "Please don't. I much prefer what you call me."

Neville almost instantly grew red. "Len?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Loads better. I've never seen you drink. Do you?"

"No," Neville said. "I've never really been into that kind of thing."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a fun drunk, like Seamus. I'm exactly the same as I am now. So, what's the point?"

Lenore nodded. "I feel the same. I feel kind of awkward when I'm drunk. Like, I know drinking is supposed to remove your inhibitions, but I'm still hyperaware of everything."

Neville agreed. "Well… are you ready for O.W.L.s on Monday?"

"No, not at all."

"Me neither."

"Oh hey!" Lenore said. "You said you would help me with Herbology?"

"Y-yeah."

"I have a few questions," Lenore said. She searched her brain. "Like why can only fire stop a Devil's Snare?"

"Devil's Snare dies with light or heat," Neville answered.

"Okay, but then why can't sunlit hurt it? Why does it have to be fire specifically?"

He thought for a moment. "I have no idea. I can check my textbook for you."

"Oh, no," Lenore said, lifting up her arms in protest. "I don't want to take you away from this party."

Neville hesitated for a moment, seemingly working up all his nerve to open his mouth and ask, "I-if you want, we can go up to my dorm and study instead?"

If any other guy said that, Lenore would be suspicious. But she trusted Neville. And honestly, even studying sounded more fun than this eventless party. She had never studied while tipsy before. That could be interesting.

"Alright," she smiled. "I'll follow you."

Neville got off the table and started up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Lenore walked right behind him.

"Lenore!" Pansy called when she was just a few stairs up.

Pansy ran over to the bottom of the staircase. Lenore descended, so Neville could not hear whatever foolishness Pansy would say to her.

"What are you doing?" Pansy hissed. "Are you going upstairs with Neville?"

"It's not what you think," Lenore said, as her cheeks burned pink. "We're studying."

Pansy gave her a look.

"No, really. He's helping me with Herbology."

"He's helping himself to you," Pansy said.

"Goodbye, Pansy," Lenore twirled around and began climbing the stairs again.

Pansy grabbed her arm. "Len, think about this. What are people going to think if you fuck Longbottom?"

"Pansy!" Lenore cried. "We're not going to do anything!"

Pansy let go of her. "Fine. I can't stop you. Just know people will be talking about this."

Lenore ran up the stairs, past Neville, to prove a point to Pansy.

Neville met her at the top of the stairs, avoiding her eyes.

"Did you hear all that?" she asked apprehensively.

Neville gave a small nod. He spoke so rapidly that Lenore had trouble keeping up. "W-we can go back downstairs if you want, I'm sorry, I didn't want to em-embarrass you or- or anything like that, really, I'm s-sorry, w-we don't have to—"

"Neville," Lenore cut his nervous rant short, "don't worry about it. Pansy is full of it. She's being dramatic."

"A-are you sure?" he asked. He sounded ready to have a panic attack. "I-I don't want anyone t-to think—"

"Yes," Lenore said firmly. "Take me to your room."

Neville unlocked the door to his dormitory and Lenore looked around. "Which side is yours?" she asked.

He pointed to a bed on the far end of the room. Lenore walked over and took a seat on the stone ground. She peered around her surroundings.

"This is a nice room," she said anxiously. "Much nicer than the Slytherin dorms. Not as ornate, but it's definitely brighter and airier in here. There's not much you can do in my room, besides sleep. It's so dark."

Lenore forced her mouth closed with her hand. When she got nervous, she talked without end. Neville silently reached into the trunk in front of his bed and pulled out a huge guide to Herbology.

"This is awkward," Lenore confided. "I'm so sorry. I don't know where Pansy gets these ideas. Just because she wants to sleep with every male she encounters doesn't mean other girls do."

Neville still would not make eye contact with her. "I-it's okay. Let's l-look up Devil's Snare."

He sat across from her on the floor and flipped through his book.

"This isn't a textbook, is it?" Lenore asked.

"N-no," he said. "I-it's mine."

"You like Herbology that much?"

He nodded, as he ran his fingers across pages.

"That's nice!" Lenore said. "I wish I liked something that much."

"W-what classes do you like?"

Lenore noticed he how much he was stuttering. She wanted to make him feel comfortable again, but she did not know how. "I like Divination," she said. "It's kind of a dumb class, but it's interesting. And I like Muggle Studies. Potions is kind of cool, too. It's my best class, by far. I kind of like the rest of the classes equally. I want to be a reporter for the _Daily Prophet_ , so I feel like I should have an interest in nearly everything."

"You'd be a good reporter" he said.

"Thanks," she beamed.

He finally found the page detailing Devil's Snare. He scanned it for a few seconds, then said "It d-doesn't react to sunlight because it's not powerful enough to kill it, o-only make it a little weaker."

Lenore furrowed her eyebrows. "Oh. Well, I could have guessed that. Does the Chinese Chomping Cabbage eat things other than fruits and vegetables? Like can it eat insects or mammals?

Neville flicked through another set of pages. "No," he answered. "It… It's not strong enough to break the skin of humans or animals. It can gnaw insects, if they are dead."

They went through a few more plants Lenore had memorized, but Neville continued to avoid her gaze.

"Neville," Lenore finally said softly, "I wish you would look me in the eyes."

Slowly, Neville brought his head up and stared at her.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry, again. This has to be awkward for you. I know you're not like that. I know Pansy knows you're not like that. I wouldn't have come up here if I didn't trust you. Thank you for helping me studying. Really, I appreciate it."

"Y-you're welcome," Neville said, much brighter than before.

She smiled at him. "Can I see this book?"

He handed it to her. She turned page after page, peeking through the full-color illustrations and occasionally reading some words. "Which plant is your favorite?"

He pointed up to the cactus sitting on his dresser. "That one."

Lenore stood up and examined the plant. "What does it do?"

"It's a Mimbulus Mimbletonia," Neville said. "When you touch it wrong, stinksap bursts from the boils on it's thick skin, like a defense-mechanism. Stinksap is used to treat sick animals. It heals internal wounds."

"That's interesting," she smiled. His stuttering had disappeared. "What happens if you touch it right?"

Neville held out his finger and poked the plant in a certain spot. It began to croon a strange tune.

"That's so weird," Lenore said.

Neville removed his hand from the spot he had jabbed, but he felt the back of his palm accidentally glide across the pimples on a nearby branch of the plant. Instantly, the cactus squirted a large amount of lime green goo. It coated Neville and Lenore in a slimy, sticky mess of stinksap. And stink, it did. Their surroundings smelled of putrid manure. Lenore did not scream. Or gasp. All she could do was stand completely still and try not to inhale too deeply. Neville, on the other hand, freaked out.

"Oh, Merlin, Lenore!" he exclaimed. "I'm so sorry! Oh god…"

He did not know what to do. Last time this had happened, Hermione Granger cleaned it up with a simple spell, but he did not know which incantation she had used. He drew his wand, but remained voiceless. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to recall the proper words.

"Here," Lenore said lightly. " _Tergeo_."

She waved her wand over each of their bodies and slowly the liquid began to vanish. The smell still faintly remained, until Lenore recited another scouring spell, this time over the entire room.

Neville's face once again appeared worried. "I-I'm s-so sorry," he repeated. "Really, Merlin, that was bad. S-sorry."

"Neville," she said, "don't worry about it. It's clean now."

"S-still," he said, "t-that never happens."

"It went off a bit _premature_ , wouldn't you say?" she said in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

Neville did not find her penis joke as funny as she did. He turned bright red and bit his lip. Lenore, meanwhile, was having a good time laughing at her own musings.

"Sorry," she teased. "But after everything that happened, I thought it was fitting."

"Don't tell Pansy that joke," Neville finally smiled. "She won't think it's funny."

"I think she would appreciate it," Lenore laughed.

"As if she needs any more ammunition against me," he chuckled.

There was no way in hell that Lenore would say Pansy had already made jokes about premature ejaculation when discussing Neville, so she simply smiled.

In a glass box on the other side of the dresser, Neville's toad ribbited. Lenore got closer and put her face near the glass. "Hi, little toad," she said as if talking to a baby. "How old is he now? You've had him forever, right?"

"He's nearly ten years old."

"How long do toads normally live?"

She looked up to see Neville's face grow worried. "I'm sorry!" she said. "I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Oh," he said, "don't worry about it. To be honest, I-I'm not very attached to him anymore."

"He's cute though," she offered. "His little face is adorable."

"Do you have a pet?" Neville asked.

"I have three dogs at home, but an owl here. She's a barn owl named Vicky."

"Vicky?" he asked.

"Yeah," she grinned. "I named her after this chain-smoking woman I met at my aunt's wedding. She had the deepest voice and she was just the coolest lady ever. Or so nine year old me thought. She had brown hair about the color of my owl, so I figured it went together."

Lenore sat back down on the ground.

"You don't have to sit on the dirty ground," Neville offered. "You can sit on Seamus's bed behind you."

Lenore dragged herself off the floor and sat cross legged on Seamus's comforter. She peered back up at Neville and a strange thought spun its way across her brain.

" _He is kind of cute._ "

Her mouth dropped open. Internally, she screamed. She could not fancy Neville. She did not fancy Neville. Did she? She tried to think, but her brain was not working. " _No,_ " she thought, " _I can think a boy is cute without fancying him._ "

Lenore examined his face. He carefully placed his Herbology book on top of his trunk. He looked at her and they made eye contact. She quickly tore her eyes away from him.

" _He is cute_ ," she mentally yelled. " _I think Neville Longbottom is cute._ "

She searched her mind and heart. " _But I don't fancy him,_ " she honestly told herself. " _Does he think I'm cute? The way he got so nervous when Pansy suggested we were going to—_ " But she was cut off.

The door to the dorm burst open. Seamus and one of Margaux's roommates, who Lenore could not name, snogged wildly. They flopped down on the bed next to Lenore. She screamed and jumped up.

Seamus, finally aware of their presence, shouted "HEYYYYY!" from his place underneath the girl.

Lenore started to make a break for the door, but Seamus called "You don't have to go! We can leave!"

"No," Neville said, "we'll be leaving."

"Hope I wasn't interrupting anything," Seamus winked.

Neville slammed the door shut on his roommate and his "date".

Lenore stood with her mouth wide open. "I didn't know Seamus did all that!"

"He doesn't," Neville said. "He snogs girls, nothing more."

Lenore was silent for a few moments, before she burst out laughing. "Merlin, this night just keeps getting weirder."

Neville chuckled. "Do you want to go back down to the party?"

"Sure," Lenore said.

They got to the end of the hallway and Neville stopped. "Y-you can go down before me so it doesn't look like we're coming out of here together."

"Don't be silly," she said. She pulled him by his sleeve down the stairs and to the party.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Margaux! Margaux!" Verona called out.

Margaux saw her friend motioning her from the top of the staircase. She excused herself from Derek and Luna and trudged over to her roommate.

"Yes?" Margaux said.

Verona appeared hysterical. No words could leave her mouth. She took Margaux's arm and forced her to run up the stairs.

"Ouch! Verona! What's wrong?"

Verona threw open the door to one of the boy's rooms. She shoved Margaux into the room first and pointed at Seamus. He laid on his bed, completely still, with his eyes closed.

"Is he sleeping?" Margaux asked, confused as to what Verona meant by all this.

Immediately after Margaux spoke, Seamus began coughing like he was choking. Margaux grabbed Seamus's chest and coerced him to sit up straight. As he did, he vomitted a large amount of clear liquid onto the floor.

"Seamus?" Margaux panicked. "Are you okay?"

He did not respond. His eyes rolled open and closed.

Margaux's stomach grew heavy. "Verona," she instructed, "go get Dean and Neville."

Margaux continued to hold Seamus up straight. Verona did not move.

"GO!" Margaux shouted.

The girl was spurred into action. She flew down the stairs and scanned the room for either boy. She spotted Dean first.

"THOMAS!" she called.

Dean turned away from Anthony Goldstein and saw Verona running towards him. She took his arm and asked frantically "Where's Longbottom?"

"What?" Dean asked.

Verona could tell he was tipsy. She spotted Neville in the corner, talking to Margaux's sister. She grabbed Neville with her other hand.

"What's going on?" Lenore said.

"Help!" Verona cried. "Seamus needs your help."

Margaux patted Seamus on the back as the door flew open. " _Thank god_ ," she thought. The scent of vomit overwhelmed their noses. Margaux looked ready to cry. Dean sped to her side, stepping over Seamus's throw up.

"I don't know what to do!" she exclaimed. "I've tried everything I know! I've sat him up, made sure he's breathing, let him vomit. What do I do now?"

"Seamus," Dean said, taking his friend's hands, "how are ya, mate?"

Seamus let out some indistinguishable groans. Margaux was relieved he could talk. But she could still feel him shaking.

"I think he has alcohol poisoning," she said to Dean.

Suddenly, his body started vibrating rapidly. Margaux screamed.

"WHAT DO I DO?" she looked frantically around. "LENORE! HELP ME!"

Lenore broke away from her place near the closed door and hurried over to Seamus. "Put him on the ground, on his back," she instructed.

Dean helped Margaux lower him gently onto the ground.

"Put his arm above his head," Lenore said. "Now roll him onto his side, with his face elevated on his other arm, so he can throw up without choking. Let him rest a minute, then we'll make him vomit some more."

Seamus continued to shake, but he seemed more comfortable.

Lenore turned to Neville. "Is there anything in here he can throw up into?"

Neville mentally searched the room. "The cage," he said. "The toad's cage."

"Nothing else?" Lenore said. "No vases or bowls or anything?"

Neville shook his head. Margaux seized the glass box off Neville's dresser.

She jumped on Seamus's bed as a shortcut. "Take him out," she told Neville. He held his toad as Margaux jumped back to Seamus. Lenore performed a scouring spell to clean up Seamus's previous bile from the floor.

"Sit him up now," Lenore commanded. "Clean his stomach out."

Margaux sat him vertical once more and directed his face into the glass cage.

" _Eructo,_ " she directed her wand near Seamus's mouth. His stomach began to spill its contents. It smelled horrible. Lenore had to take a step back. Dean stroked Seamus's back as Margaux held his head. Verona still cried. Lenore wanted to comfort her, but she was no good at emotions, especially dealing with other people's emotions. Neville watched helpless as his best friend emptied all his alcohol from his innards.

"Does anybody know how much he drank?" Margaux asked.

"I wasn't with him," Dean said.

"Me neither," Neville replied.

"He was already drunk when he was with me," Verona said. "But then I think he had… at least four drinks just in the last forty-five minutes. I'm pretty drunk myself, and he drank more than me."

She pointed to a cup on Seamus's nightstand. "He drank four of those."

Lenore picked up the goblet and sniffed it. She gagged. "Mallory Lux drinks this stuff. All the Slytherin guys do, because it's green and it makes them look 'tough', or whatever. It's like sixty percent alcohol."

"Merlin H. Wizard," Dean said. "How the hell can he handle that?"

"Obviously, he can't," Lenore said. "Do you lot not watch each other when you drink?"

Neville and Dean looked at each other and shook their heads.

Lenore turned to her sister's roommate, "Do you watch your friends to make sure they don't drink too much?"

The girl nodded.

"Margaux? Do you?"

"Of course!" Margaux said. "So things like this don't happen. And it's a lot more dangerous for a girl."

"Thank you," said Lenore. "You two need to watch him."

"Lenore," Dean argued. "We couldn't have stopped him."

Lenore started to open her mouth, but Margaux cut her off. "They really couldn't have," Margaux said. "I've seen Seamus drink. He's normally very safe, but he does drink a lot. He's got it down to a science. I don't know what happened tonight."

Lenore stayed quiet. Seamus finished throwing up. "Now what?" Margaux asked.

"Lay him on his bed," her sister replied, "in the same position on his side as before."

Dean and Margaux lifted him onto the bed again. Dean wiped his mate's face off with his pillowcase, then put the pillow on the floor so Seamus could not use it.

"You all can go back to the party," Dean said. "I'll watch him."

"Are you sure, mate?" Neville asked. "I can stay with you."

"No," Dean said, "go have fun. I'll let you know immediately if anything changes."

Neville gave a short nod and returned this toad to the newly scoured glass box. Lenore followed him out of the room.

"Tell me if anything happens," Verona said to Dean as she exited. "I probably won't be much help, but I would feel guilty if I wasn't there."

Margaux started to leave, but she stopped. "I'm going to watch him, too."

"You don't have to do that," Dean protested. "Your friends are downstairs."

"My friends are also right here," Margaux gestured to the two boys on the bed.

" _Friend_ ," Dean's mind shouted. " _She called me her friend. Oh my god, she hated me just a few months ago._ "

Margaux sat down on a bed across from Seamus. Dean sat next to her.

"You know this is Neville's bed?" Dean pointed.

Margaux waved her hand. "He won't care. And even if he did, he wouldn't say anything."

Dean shrugged. "You're right. He's too timid to argue."

"That's probably why him and Lenore get along so well," she grinned. "She complains and he just agrees."

Dean nodded. "Probably. He hangs on to her every word."

Dean slammed his lips shut. " _Oh, fuck,_ " he thought. " _Did I just reveal something I shouldn't have?_ "

Margaux did not seem to catch it, however. She took Seamus's half-drunk goblet of absinthe off a dresser and gulped it down. Dean sat with wide eyes.

"Are you drunk?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Not like super drunk, but... drunk. Are you drunk?"

"Kind of," Dean admitted. "Barely."

There was a bit of awkward silence, until Margaux spoke up. "I'm going downstairs to get some water. Do you want some?"

Dean put up his hands. "Oh, ummm, sure if you don't mind."

Margaux smiled and hurried downstairs to find herself a drink. She swigged down a glass of water, then added some more to her cup and returned upstairs with a cup for Dean.

"I hope Seamus is doing okay," Margaux said as she sat back down and handed Dean a goblet. "Does he look okay?"

The boy laid on his bed, asleep. He snored every so often, but with an empty stomach he would not be throwing up any more.

"He's going to have a killer hangover tomorrow, but he'll be alright."

"Good," Margaux said. "We can let him sleep it off."

"He'll be out for a while, maybe even all night."

Margaux looked around the room. She examined the fine furnishings, the red comforters, the gold trim on everything. "This room is exactly like mine. It's eerie. If this were my room, my bed would be… right there," she pointed.

"That's my bed, actually," Dean said.

"Eerie," Margaux repeated. "So, where are Harry and Ron?"

"No clue," Dean said. He checked his watch. The hands read nearly 11:30 p.m. "They are normally in bed by now. They must be down in the common room, or wandering somewhere in the castle. Sometimes they sneak out at night."

"Does everybody sneak out?" Margaux asked. "I've never been out past curfew."

"Bullshit," Dean laughed. "I've seen you out past curfew."

"When?" Margaux demanded.

"Just a couple months ago. At that Seven Minutes in Heaven game."

Margaux crossed her arms and thought a moment. "Alright, fine. But I've never been caught."

"I didn't say you'd been caught," Dean said, "I said you go out past curfew."

"Whatever," Margaux smiled. "I wish I was a bad kid."

"What?" Dean asked.

Margaux felt warm inside. Her giddiness levels seemed to be skyrocketing. "I wish I could do the things I hear about— snogging, getting drunk, earning detentions. I don't do any of that."

"I'm sure you do plenty," Dean said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Margaux laughed.

"I, er," Dean hesitated, "I don't know. I didn't think. I just figured you had all the fun you could get."

"I wish," Margaux said. "No, it's kind of hard for me to do those things."

"Why? What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I've got anxiety," Margaux shrugged. "But anyways, did you see Terry—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean interrupted. "What do you mean you have anxiety?"

"Yeah," Margaux said. This alcohold was making her reveal too much about herself. She was a chatty drunk. Her voice grew louder and her head would not stay in one position. "Can't you tell? I've got to work up the nerve to do anything. I don't like to talk to people I don't know, I freak out over tests or presentations, I worry about everything. It's mild anxiety, but it's there."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "I didn't know any of that."

"That's good, I guess," Margaux slurred. "I try to hide it. I don't have to take medication for it anymore. I've gotten pretty good at hyping myself up to do things. One time I cried because I forgot a bag full of groceries at the store."

She examined Dean's worried face and laughed. "We've all got problems, some of us can just disguise them better than others."

"You're good at hiding it," Dean replied, "because I've never noticed. You always seem perfect…ly fine."

He had to catch himself from stopping at "perfect". Margaux down the last of her water, but did not seem to take in Dean's words.

She smiled. "You are awfully collected for being drunk. I know I don't have any sense."

"I've always been alert when I'm drunk," Dean shrugged. "It just doesn't affect me. Plus, I'm so tall, I'd have to drink about what Seamus drank tonight to even feel drunk."

"What's the craziest thing you've done while drunk?"

"One night when I was pretty hammered, Seamus and I went down to the Black Lake to race each other. We started running like crazy. But we forgot to set a finish line, so we just kept running. I tripped on a tree root and grabbed on to Seamus, but he couldn't stay upright. I fell on the ground and and busted my lip, while Seamus rolled down a hill into the Black Lake. Well, the water was only a meter deep, but Seamus was convinced he was drowning, so I had to wade into the water and rescue him. Then, he dragged me underwater and Anthony Goldstein, the timekeeper, had to come in and drag us both out."

Margaux laughed so hard that she hid her face in her hands.

"Okay, missy," Dean smiled, "what's the craziest thing you've done while drunk?"

"My story also takes place at the Black Lake," Margaux said. "It was just a few weeks ago, in broad daylight. I was down at the lake with Helaine, Verona, and Kadence, my roommates. Colin Creevey and Derek Davies were also there. Somebody decided to invite that absolute prat Connor McCormick."

"Don't know him," Dean said.

"He's a Hufflepuff. That's all you gotta know. So, we're out by the lake drinking firewhisky and talking. Connor keeps saying the craziest, dumbest lies and trying to be funny. He's getting on everyone's nerves. We're out there for about an hour and we're pretty drunk by now. Fucking Connor takes out a ukulele and starts playing it, like we were going to singing along with him. He does that for a while and we tell him to stop multiple times, but he's too drunk to care. Finally, I snatched that damn ukulele out of his hands and smashed it on the ground."

Margaux was in a fit of giggles at this point. Dean laughed at her inability to finish the story. "You broke his ukulele?" he gawked.

"Into about a hundred pieces," Margaux yelled. "He ran off in near tears. But I didn't have to hear him strum a fucking Radiohead song."

"That's so mean!" Dean laughed.

"Dean, honey," Margaux said, putting her hand on his arm. "If you met this little shit, you would understand."

"I'm sure," he said.

Margaux did not remove her hand from him. Rather, she steadied herself on him as she laid down on the bed behind him. She closed her eyes.

"Sometimes," she said after a moment, "I'm worried nobody likes me."

This comment took Dean by surprise. "What?"

"I do," Margaux said, "I worry I do these mean things and nobody likes me."

"Is this part of the anxiety?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Yeah..."

"Margaux," Dean said, "I know for a fact people like you. You might do some… impulsive things, but they are always justified."

"Thanks," she smiled up at him. "I think so."

Margaux jumped up and drew the curtains around Neville's bed, so that she and Dean were in their own little compartment. She drunkenly giggled as she laid back down. "It's like we have out own fort."

Dean smiled. " _Boy, she is a strange drunk_ ," he thought.

Margaux stared up at his face.

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" she asked out loud, instead of in her mind.

Dean was a bit taken aback. "What? Why are you asking me that?"

"Because, you're cute enough, and you give off this impression of being a ladies man," Margaux snickered.

"' _Cute_ ,'" Dean's brain screamed. " _She said I'm cute_."

He could not stop his mind from spiraling into thought. What if she liked him? What if they started dating? What if they kissed? Would they kiss soon? Dean had to reply before it got weird. He forced himself to say "I don't know."

"That's a good enough answer," Margaux smiled. "I don't know why I'm single either. I just like it that way."

Dean nodded. "I guess I do, too."

"Lay down," Margaux smiled. She patted the space next to her.

"No," Dean said, "that's okay. I'll sit."

"Dean," she said. "You'll be more comfortable."

He did not want to make things weird. Margaux was obviously drunk and he did not even want to give the impression he would ever take advantage of that.

"I'll go check on Seamus," Dean said.

He climbed out of bed and looked over Seamus. The Irish lad laid in the same position and breathed normally. When he was sure Seamus was okay, Dean yawned. It was getting late and he did not realize how tired he was. He returned hesitantly to Margaux.

"Dean," she said, eyes closed. She patted the bed next to her.

"Alright, fine," Dean gave in.

He laid down next to her. Both their heads were at the foot of the bed. He made sure to leave plenty of space between their bodies. Again, he yawned.

"I'm tired," Margaux whispered.

"Me too," Dean said weakly.

"I shouldn't be tired," she said slowly, "it's barely midnight. But then again, I always fall asleep before 10:30 most days. I'm not a night owl. I like waking up early, like seven in the morning."

"Mmhmm," Dean said. He laid on his back with his eyes closed.

Margaux sat in silence for a few minutes. Her eyes flickered open and closed. Her ears detected snoring next to her. Dean was fast asleep and lightly snoring. She gave a quiet laugh, but quickly found herself drifting off as well.

About twenty minutes later, Neville entered the room to find his bed curtains pulled shut.

" _That's weird_ ," he thought.

Harry and Ron had also drawn their curtains by this time. Neville peeled his curtains back to reveal Dean and Margaux asleep together in his bed. Quickly he shut the curtains.

" _Oh Merlin,_ " he thought. " _What the bloody hell are they doing? They couldn't have done anything. No, they must have honestly fallen asleep while watching Seamus. In my bed, though? Why?"_

Neville looked around the room. He felt a bit disoriented from his night with Lenore. They had talked for over two hours. About what, he could not even tell you. It was a lovely time, though. For whatever reason, Lenore really seemed to enjoy talking to him. He could tell she more comfortable around him than even just a month ago.

Neville spotted Dean's empty bed. " _I guess I'll be sleeping there._ "

He laid down fully clothed, closed the curtains so Harry and Ron would not notice he and Dean has switched spots, and fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12: Pretty Woman

"You wanna go on a hike?"

That was the voice that greeted Lenore as she exited her final O.W.L, History of Magic. Her sister ambushed her in the hallway immediately following the difficult test.

"What?" she asked, still a bit disoriented from the three essays she recently completed.

"A hike."

Lenore pinched up her nose. "I don't like the outdoors."

"Sure you do!" Margaux said. "Come on! You need a break! Dean and Neville invited me and I want some company if they start telling inside jokes or whatever."

Lenore shook her head. "I guess I can go. When?"

Margaux looked at her watch. "Like twenty minutes."

"It's before dinner, not after?" Lenore groaned.

"Yeah," Margaux said. "Umbridge is being a real dick. Curfew is so early now. Meet us in front of the entrance doors in twenty minutes."

Lenore freshened up her wizards robes with a spritz of sweet perfume and a light application of pink lipstick. She wore thick glasses that day and no makeup, but it was no matter, she still felt decent about her appearance. She met Margaux sans backpack at the entrance.

"I hate the uniform rule," Margaux said. "I can handle the eight inches from boys rule. I tolerate the no music rule. But this is the worst. I need my sweatpants, Lenore. I need them."

"It's the worst. At least it's only enforced while the sun is up."

"Yeah, but when the sun goes down, it's curfew," Margaux said.

"Oi!" Dean shouted from behind. "I didn't know Lenore was tagging along!"

He elbowed Neville before the girls turned around. "And I bet you didn't either."

Neville gulped.

"Yep," Margaux said. "Deal with it."

"Well, I feel very welcomed," Lenore said.

"The more birds, the merrier, as I always say. Come on, let's go before someone asks where we are going."

Dean led them out of the courtyard and past the castle. A suspicious feeling crept over Lenore. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see, Big Henry."

"Is that my name now?"

"It fits," Dean laughed.

Lenore eyed Neville, who shook his head.

"It sounds like you're calling her fat," Margaux said.

"Older Henry, then."

"Elder Henry," Lenore said. "I want to sound like a religious leader."

"Elder Henry it is."

The four trekked down the rolling green hills, past Hagrid's shack, and towards the forest opposite the Black Lake. It was not the Forbidden Forest, but it was still spooky. This forest was considerably brighter than the one off-limits to students. Thick green grass grew on the ground. Sunlight streamed in through the leaves above. Birds chirped out a quick and upbeat tune. Dean began to slow his pace. "And now the hike begins," he said.

"Was that not all hiking?" Margaux asked.

"Nooo, we were walking to the hike."

Lenore rolled her eyes so her sister could see. "Alright, Dean, be our tour guide."

Dean rubbed his hands together. "Okay, that right there is a… tree of some sort. And over there… I believe those are called 'leaves.' And to your left—"

"You are a shithead," Margaux laughed.

Dean smiled. "That's what I do best."

"Are we going somewhere specific or just walking around?" Lenore asked.

"It wouldn't be a hike if there wasn't an end location, now would it?"

Lenore walked daintily on the forest floor, trying not to scuff her shoes. "I mean, nowhere in the definition of 'hike' does it say there is a turn around point."

Margaux was glad she had not worn her patent leather shoes, unlike Lenore. She came prepared for the wilderness, donning her dirtiest trainers (not in uniform), thick cushioning socks, and a thin grey cardigan tied around her waist. As the group walked deeper into the forest, Margaux got the conversation rolling. "So, what's the dumbest thing you've ever done with magic?"

"What, like accidentally?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'll go first," she said. "One time I was practicing spells with a quill, instead of a wand, for practice. I set my quill down for a second, but I must have picked up my wand because I looked up to find the carpet in the common room on fire."

Lenore laughed, along with Dean and Neville. "Once in third year, Blair asked me to help her cut her hair with magic. This was back when she had big curls, not the braids she has now. She wouldn't let me use scissors and I wouldn't have trusted myself with them anyways. As I was waving my wand over her hair, she was telling me this insane story and I got so distracted I cut off one side nearly at her chin. She screeched when she saw it fall on the ground and I had to figure out how to bond it back together. It took us two days to figure out how and she had to walk around with seven inches of hair missing on one side."

"That's kind of like my story!" Dean said. "I was trying to grow my hair out, because I wanted a full afro. I heard that line from 'Dig It" by Yung Wiz that said 'runnin' her hands through my 'fro' and I decided I that's what I wanted.

"'If you can dig it,'" Margaux started.

"'Smokin' and tight, straight out the kitchen,'" continued Lenore.

"'Baby throwin' that body, got every man in here looking,'" Dean laughed.

They all look towards Neville. His eyes grew wide.

"Say 'sippin' on coke and henny,'" Margaux urged.

"Sippin' on Coke and... henny,'" he spoke, rather than sang.

As Dean sang the next line, Neville whispered to Lenore, "What is Coke?"

"Do you even know what henny is?"

He shook his head which made her giggle. She opened her mouth to reply but Dean spoke.

"So anyway," Dean stopped singing, "I pointed to the wrong spot and hit my eyebrows. They were down to here." He motioned to a few inches below his shoulders.

"Oh my god," Margaux said. "What about you, Neville?"

He thought a moment. "Um, Gran asked me to fix a cake she made for my neighbor. The cake was all lopsided and the icing had melted. Gran was running late and she went upstairs to change. I honestly tried to fix that cake, but I don't know what happened. It looked pretty, but when Gran went to pick it up, it bit her hand."

"WHAT?" Lenore laughed.

"What the hell did you?" Margaux gasped.

"I-I don't even know," he said bashfully. "It just happened."

"Wait," Dean said. "How are you doing magic outside of school?"

Neville appeared slightly embarrassed. "It's different for purebloods. We're around so much magic, or the Ministry assumes we are, so the magic can't be pinpointed to one person."

"That's a load of shit," Dean said as he kicked a rock on the ground. The sharp brown stone hit Margaux in the back of the ankle.

"Ow!" she screeched.

"Shit!" Dean said. He hurried over to her. "I'm so sorry."

Margaux glared at him. "Fuck, that hurt." She peeled her torn sock down to her ankle to reveal blood. "Well, great."

"Mar, I'm sorry," Dean panicked. "Let me fix it for you."

"I can do it myself," she took out her wand.

Dean watched helplessly as Margaux waved her wand over her bruised ankle. Nothing. She waved again. And again. She was beginning to get frustrated. She was one of the smartest witches in her year and she could not even heal a small wound? What was wrong with her today? After one final try, she admitted, "Okay, maybe I can't."

"I'll do it," Dean bravely volunteered. He pointed his twisted wand at her ankle. He also attempted a spell under his breath multiple times. He looked up to see Margaux struggling to conceal her giggle. He tried a different spell with no avail.

"You can't do it either!" Margaux was nearly in tears from laughing so much.

"I got the blood off it!" he argued.

She was now rolling on the ground from laughing so much. "It came right back! Lenore! Help!"

Lenore leaned over her sister and commanded " _Episkey!_ "

"Ohhhhhh," both Dean and Margaux realized. They turned to each other and said at the same time, "What were you trying to do?"

Margaux spoke first, "I used _vulnera sanentur_."

"I tried _tergeo_ ," Dean said.

"You used a cleaning spell on my leg?"

Dean helped her up. "It cleaned it didn't it?"

She nudged him with her shoulder. "You are so dumb."

"I'm not the one trying to use a spell for massive bleeding on a little cut."

Margaux laughed. "I was in so much pain I forgot, okay?"

"Mmhm," Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm sure—"

"Wait!" Lenore interrupted him. "Look!"

Her eyes were fixated on a tree about ten feet off the path. It was a tall oak tree, undistinguishable from any of the other trees, but this one caught her attention. Her feet took her to the tall brown oak. She reached up and traced the rough bark with her fingers. The tree featured carvings of past Hogwarts couples. "Kurt and Carrie, love forever" read one phrase. "Delia + Elizabeth 1982" said another. Lenore's eyes floated to a heart just above her head. The words "Frank and Alice" had been carved inside the heart into the wood. Her jaw dropped open.

"Neville, come here," she motioned for him. "Quick."

Neville obeyed. His eyes scanned the spot where she pointed. He audibly gasped. Without thinking, he reached out and placed his hand on the engraved bark.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"M-my parents," Neville said. "Their names are here."

Dean stepped closer. "What, they chiseled their names into a tree?"

"That's the most romantic way to let a partner know you brought a knife along on a date," Margaux quipped.

Lenore watched Neville's facial expressions change from shock to glee and everything in between. He had not yet removed his hand from the tree.

"HEY!" Margaux shouted. "LOOK! COME ON!"

Before Lenore could turn around, Margaux was gone. She took off running into the deep part of the forest. Dean chased after her. They ran deeper and deeper through the trees. After nearly three minutes of running, Margaux halted at the base of the tree near the lake. Dean jogged up beside her.

"What the hell was that?" Dean panted.

"I saw a rabbit!" she said, still searching for the white animal. "But I lost it."

"You ran this far for a dumb bunny?"

"Yes," she crossed her arms. "I like animals."

"They bloody don't like you, I'd reckon."

"This one was just scared."

Dean smiled slightly. "Sure."

"Come on, Thomas, look how nice this tree is." She pounded the tree with her hand. "Let's climb it."

Before Dean knew what was happening, Margaux was three meters off the ground. She had so much energy, all the time. He would never be able to keep up with her. Margaux was like the rabbit they had been chasing. She, too, could never be caught. Dean hoisted himself into the branches and followed her up about twenty-five feet. Through the thick summer buds, the pair could see out over the Black Lake. The water shimmered like millions of diamonds bobbed under the surface. Brown ducks leaped into the tiny waves below them. A gentle breeze wafted through the humid June air.

"So," she smiled, "how was your day?"

Dean braced himself on the branch. "I definitely did not pass that History of Magic O.W.L."

"Did you want to pass it?"

"No," he said sarcastically, "I was actually planning on flunking out this year, maybe leaving Hogwarts to persue my country rap career."

"Country rap? How would you do that?"

Dean began quickly rapping with a redneck accent. "Alright! Hold 'em up! Here we go! Y'all listen up now! From London to Texas, from rap to hick-hop, I'm rappin' some country. Yo, this girl Mar said it couldn't be done, but I showed her. This right here is where I start droppin' the names of people who've wronged me. Ay ay ay Tim McGraw, kiss my ass. Martina McBride, you ain't even famous. Garth Brooks, you got friends in low places? I'm surprised you got friends anywhere. Uhhhhhh…"

He could not think of any other country singers. Margaux laughed. "That actually wasn't bad. Can you only name three country singers?"

"I'm sorry I'm not a hillbilly," he smiled. "Do you Yanks listen to a lot of country?"

"God no. I heard it playing all the time, in shops and places like that. I've been to a line dance before. But I didn't go out of my way to listen to it."

"A line dance?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "You just dance in a line to George Strait or whoever. Like the Cotton-Eyed Joe."

"The what?"

Margaux waved her hand. "Anyways, why did you want to pass History of Magic? Do you need it for your career?"

"No," Dean said. "I'm not sure what I want to do. I've thought…"

He stopped. He did not want to tell Margaux, for fear of sounding stupid.

"What?" she asked. "What career have you thought about?"

"I might want to be an artist," he admitted.

"That's cool! What kind of artist?"

"I've thought about painting the moving portraits. You know, like the ones hanging up around the castle. I can also… bake."

Margaux stared at him with wide eyes. "I had no idea you were the creative type."

"I feel kind of weird doing it. It's more of a Ravenclaw thing, don't you think?"

"Nah," she said. "You can do whatever you want. You'll have to show me some of your art some time."

Dean smiled shyly. "I will. What do you want to do?"

"I'm thinking either auror or accountant for the Ministry."

"Fuck," Dean said. "That's so much better than saying 'artist.'"

"There's no shame in 'artist,'" she assured him. "Do what you love."

"So, you love crime fighting and numbers?"

"I do," she grinned. "I love Arithmancy and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I've also thought about going to a muggle university after this."

"How would you do that?" Dean asked. "You can't exactly write 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' on a transcript."

"They can fix that in the Ministry. My dad has a doctorate from a muggle university. It wasn't a problem, he just had to fake a few documents."

"But isn't it hard? We don't get math or science here and don't they require that?"

Margaux shrugged. "You could teach yourself that easily. Or get a secondary diploma from a muggle night school. I don't know, I can see myself doing a lot of things. I don't like having to choose yet."

"Me neither," Dean sighed. "But O.W.L.s kind of force you to have some idea. And I have no idea."

"You should stick with the artist thing, as long as you enjoy it. And if you're good at it. But hey, it's art. If you're bad, you just say you did it on purpose to symbolize something."

Dean smiled and checked his watch. "Shouldn't we get back to Lenore and Neville?"

"Yeah," Margaux glanced down. "Lenore's probably scared the piss out of him."

Dean laughed. "Probably."

Margaux started to descend the tree. She got down two branches when she felt a tug on her hair. She looked up to find her shoulder-length hair wrapped tightly around a tree branch. After a few tugs and an attempt to untangle her hair, she realized she was stuck. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "Dean! Can you help me?"

The boy scooted over a few limbs to view the situation. "How did you do that?" he asked.

"I'm not sure."

Dean took out his wand and Margaux's eyes grew wide. "What are you doing?"

"I'm... going to cut your hair?"

"LIKE HELL YOU ARE!" She smacked his wand away from her hair, but it slipped out of his hand and tumbled to the ground. Dean watched it fall with an open mouth.

"What was that for?!"

"Sorry," she gasped. "I'll get it for you. If I'm not trapped up here for life!"

Dean could not stay mad at her for long. He steadied himself on the thick branch and reached up in an attempt to unravel her hair.

"Ouch," she whined.

"If you'd let me cut it, it wouldn't hurt," Dean said.

"And have three inches of hair missing on half my head? I think not."

As Dean pawed at her hair, Margaux became aware how close his face was to hers. If she stuck her tongue out, she would be licking his cheek. She could feel his warm breath on her shoulder.

"Got it!" Dean announced. He turned his head to Margaux. Her lips were dangerously close to his. His eyes darted from her light green eyes to her pale pink mouth. She stared into his eyes. He gulped, which snapped Margaux out of her daze. She backed away and began climbing down the tree. "Thanks, Dean!" she called up to him.

" _Merlin,_ " he thought, shutting his eyes. After taking a moment to regain his senses, he followed her down to the ground and pick up his wand. "Which direction do you think the others went?"

"My guess would be they stayed near the same area," Margaux said.

"Okay… any idea which direction we came from?"

Margaux searched her surroundings. "Not a clue."

Across the forest, Lenore and Neville had spent quite a chunk of time looking at the carvings on the tree.

"That really is cute," Lenore said to break their silence.

Neville's eyes finally shifted from the tree over to Lenore. He nodded. "Y-yeah."

Lenore had no idea what to say. She wanted to ask him about his parents but she did not want to push. She decided to start with an easy question. "How long did they date before they got married? They got married, right?"

Neville nodded. "I-I think they dated s-since their fifth year. I'm not really sure. That's Gran's guess."

"How old were they when they got married?"

"N-nineteen."

"Whoa. How old were they when they had you?"

Neville nodded silently. "Twenty-one."

"When did they...?"

Neville gulped. "Twenty-two."

Lenore frowned and tapped her hand to his back. Her hand clutched his jumper for a moment as she noticed Neville's terrified face. Finally, he broke the silence. "W-when did your dad go to Hogwarts?"

"Oh," Lenore blinked. "A long time before that. When did your parents graduate?"

"Class of '77."

Lenore thought out loud. "My dad was thirty-four when I was born and—"

"Thirty-four?" Neville interrupted.

She looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah?"

"That's... old," he finished.

"My mom was thirty-five. Thirty-six when she had Margaux."

"Thirty-six," he blinked again. "Wow."

"I understand the times, but I'm still more shocked about getting married at nineteen."

"I-I think i-if the world had been better, they would've waited," he said. "B-because y-yeah, that's a little young."

"Very young. Your parents graduated in '77. My dad graduated '63 and my mom graduated from an American high school in '62."

"Wow," he whispered. "My parents were... four years old when your mom graduated."

"How old is your grandma?"

"She was actually thirty-nine when she had my dad, so that's even weirder. I-it's just— your mom is a muggle. I guess that's why it's... different."

"They don't live as long."

Neville nodded nervously. "Y-yeah. Gran is seventy-two."

"See," Lenore said, "My wizard grandma was older. She was born in 1900. She died at ninety, which is kind of young for a wizard. My grandpa was ninety-two, died the same year, when I was ten. But my muggle grandma is only sixty-seven."

"How?"

Lenore cringed. "She had my mom at sixteen."

"Oh," Neville's eyes grew wide.

"Yeah," Lenore said. "My grandpa was older, he was out of school. It was... kind of gross, honestly, but the times were different. He was twenty-three."

"With a sixteen year old?"

She nodded. "It was the 1940s. That wasn't weird back then. They loved each other. They were married over fifty years. But yeah. It would be gross today."

Neville nodded, then stopped himself. "W-whatever worked for them."

Lenore shrugged. "If I were my grandma's friend, I would have told her to get away from older men. But my grandpa really was a sweet guy. Nothing shady about him at all."

"Sixteen, though," he exhaled. "Can you even imagine having a child right now?"

"They kicked my grandma out of school," Lenore said. "She didn't graduate secondary school. If she went to Hogwarts, she would've been forced out in the second semester of fifth year. If I were her, I would've given birth... last month."

Lenore stared blankly at the ground. "Holy shit."

Neville nodded. "Woah."

Lenore realized she was still holding on to Neville's jumper. She let go and allowed her hand to drop to her sides. "That means I would've gotten pregnant in July or August, before this year. Oh my god."

"T-that's really scary," he said. "And I thought getting married at nineteen was scary."

"I hadn't even kissed anybody in July or August."

Neville looked up at her and she met his eye. "Y-you hadn't ever kissed anybody then?"

"Nope," she whispered. "Never."

Neville scanned her face. "But you have now?"

She laughed. "Well, yeah."

Neville did not react at first. A mixture of worry and interest spread across his face. He looked almost... jealous. No, that was ridiculous.

"You've kissed somebody before, right?" she asked.

He nodded shortly. "A-a-a long time ago."

"Like, primary school?"

"N-no," he said. "L-like third year. You... you've kissed people this year?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Just one guy, actually. And I guess... sort of Oliver. He kissed my jaw and just barely touched my bottom lip. I guess that counts, sort of."

"W-who was the other guy?"

Lenore looked at him. He was jealous. There was no way he was not. He had never been this concerned with her love life before. Why would Neville be jealous?

"It was just once," she said. "We just hooked up at a party."

"Hooked up?" his eyes doubled in size.

"No!" she said. "Just snogging. It was Blaise."

"Zabini?" Neville gapped.

Lenore nodded. Yes, the only Blaise in the school.

"Oh, wow," he exhaled. "That's... he's... h-he's a scary guy."

"Yeah," she said. "Kind of."

His voice was a whisper. "B-but he's fit."

Lenore shook her head. "No, not really."

Neville did not take his eyes off her. "What?"

"I don't think he's attractive."

He still stared at her with confusion. "But... what? How? H-he's... fit."

Lenore giggled. "Do _you_ want to snog him?"

"No!" he flushed red. "N-no, I-I just mean... He's obviously fit. D-do you want someone... fitter than him?"

Lenore shook her head. "He's not my type. I think fit means something different to me than most people."

"W-what's your type?"

Lenore crossed her arms. "I'll tell you only if you tell me _your_ type."

"Why?"

"Because you've been questioning me! Let me question you! I'm trying to prove my point that beauty is subjective."

Neville thought a moment. "I-I like... funny girls. Smart."

"I'm talking about body."

He stared at her. In his silence, she realized that this first reaction was to name personality, rather than a body part.

"I-I have no idea," he said.

Lenore rolled her eyes. "You do, you just don't want to tell me."

"I..."

But he fell silent. Lenore picked up where he left off. "I like thicker guys."

Neville blinked. "What?"

"You know," she smiled. "Blaise is too thin and muscular. I like guys who are tall and have a little fat."

"G-give me an example," he said.

Lenore thought a moment. "Wayne Hopkins. Roger Malone. Honestly, your body type."

Neville looked down at himself. "Y-you like my body type?"

She nodded. "Yep. I like the guy to be bigger than me."

"W-why?"

"So I feel tiny," she smiled.

"Y-you want to feel tiny?"

She shrugged. "I want to feel feminine, I guess. I'm the tallest one in my family when I wear heels. My dad is only a few centimeters above me. My grandpa was a horse jockey. I'm not even that tall, but they're all so short. I've been the tallest one for so long I just kind of want to feel small."

"Y-you're the tallest one in the family?"

"We're all basically the same size. I don't know how to convert to metric. My dad is five foot five. My mom isn't even five feet. I'm five foot four. My American uncles are all under five foot six. Literally all of them are so tiny. My grandpa was Margaux's height."

"How tall is that?"

"Five foot one. You're probably about..."

Lenore stepped closer and measured where her head was even with his chest. She kept the edge of her hand on his jumper, then touched the top of his head. "You're at least six feet tall. Maybe... six foot two. That's super tall to my family."

Lenore looked up at him and smiled. His face showed his incredible nerves, which surprised her. She stepped away from him and said, "Anyway, I like bigger guys. I like dark hair. I like thick body hair, like arm and chest hair. Also, glasses are really cute. But really, these are just dumb things. If I found a good guy, it doesn't matter what he looks like. As long as he's hygienic and takes care of himself, honestly I'm cool with him. You never told me your type."

Neville closed his open mouth. "I... I-I like... legs."

Lenore laughed. "What? Most girls have legs."

He flushed red. "I like... shapely legs."

She giggled. "Most legs have shape."

He shook his head and sighed. "I like... kind of thicker legs, I guess. O-or maybe, like... thick thighs but t-thinner calves and ankles."

"Thick thighs," she giggled. "Okay."

"I-I like... I don't know, Len. I honestly don't know."

"Butt or boobs?"

His mouth dropped open. "What?"

"Every guy has a preference."

"I, er— are they in competition?"

She laughed. "No, prat, which would you rather a girl have? Imagine there are two identical girls. Identical personalities, identical bodies, but one has big boobs and no butt and the other has no boobs and a big butt. Which one?"

"W-what do you mean by 'no boobs?'"

She glanced down. "I mean, like my boobs."

Neville glanced down, then caught himself. "You have boobs," he blurted out without thinking.

Lenore laughed loudly. "Yes, good observation."

"No!" he gasped. "No! I-I m-meant... you said y-you have n-no boobs. Y-you do."

She giggled again. "Well, obviously I do. But they're nearly flat."

His eyes flickered between her chest and her eyes. "T-there's nothing wrong with that."

She smiled and stared into his brown eyes. "Thanks. I know. I like small boobs."

"M-me, too," he said, before cringing.

"You like small boobs?"

"I-I like any boobs."

Lenore laughed loudly and Neville finally cracked a smile.

"You're funny, you know that?" she giggled.

"I-I wish," he said.

She smiled brightly at him. "So, butt or boobs?"

"What's the male equivalent so I can ask you?"

Lenore thought a moment. "Length or girth?"

Neville stared at her. "Of what?"

"Of a penis!" she laughed again.

Neville flushed the brightest red she's ever seen. "O-oh," he said.

She giggled. "I mean, I'm not sure, but I'm thinking girth is better, right?"

"H-how should I know?"

Her laugh rang out once more and she covered her mouth with her hands. "Okay," she said. "I've told you. Now you tell me. Butt or boobs?"

"Butt," he said, obviously attempting to get her to stop talking about penises. "But... I don't know. I-I like both. I-I haven't had any experience."

"You didn't grab a boob during your third year kiss?"

He shook his head and blushed.

"Well," she smiled, "that makes you better than any third year male I've met."

He smiled briefly. "Have you...?"

"Have I grabbed a boob?"

His cheeks burned red. "No. No, never mind. That's private. Forget it."

"Have I had my boobs grabbed?"

He shook his head. "I don't want to know."

He held his hands over his ears and she yanked them down. "You're such a prude!" she laughed.

"I'm a prude?" he grinned. "What about you?"

"Stop," she smiled. "I get teased about that all the time."

"By who?"

"My roommates," she said as she let go of his arms. "I've only gotten to second base, so—"

"Second base?"

Lenore looked at him for a beat. "Yeah?"

"What does that mean?"

"Oh!" she laughed. "Shoot, I'm using American terms. And muggle terms. Do you know what baseball is?"

He shook his head.

"Well, it's a game with four bases arranged in a diamond. Home base, first base, second base, third base, then you run back to home base and you score one point. The bases are dumb euphemisms for sexual stuff. First base is snogging and French-kissing. Second base is generally boob or chest touching. Third base is below the waist, with clothes on. And a home run, which is when you score the point in baseball, is touching below the waist without clothes between you."

"Oh," he said with wide eyes.

"So, yeah... I have had my boobs grabbed," she smiled.

"Oh," he repeated. "T-that's... good for you."

"It really wasn't," she laughed.

"N-no?"

"Nope," she giggled. "Blaise is selfish. You can imagine what he's like when snogging."

"N-not good?"

"Nope," Lenore said. "Circe fucks him all—"

Neville's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"What?" she laughed.

"Nothing!" he said. "G-go ahead!"

Lenore still giggled. "Anyway, Circe fucks him from time to time and says he's selfish, but he's pretty good at oral. I didn't get far enough to verify these claims, but..."

Neville looked throughly embarrassed, which amused Lenore. "You don't talk about sex a lot, do you?"

"N-n-no."

"I guess I do," she said. "Or I hear about it a lot. So, I'm not a prude in my mind. I'm just a prude in reality. I'm not comfortable with sexual things right now."

"N-no?" he questioned, still avoiding her eyes.

"No," she said gently. "Not yet. I want to be a little older. And probably in a relationship. I'm not sure. Yeah, probably. A committed relationship, I guess. But I see the merits of just fucking some nobody to get it out of the way. That's what Lavender Brown did. Now she's not nervous to do it with any of her boyfriends."

Neville nodded but kept his eyes on the ground.

"What about you?" she smiled. "Why are you a prude?"

Finally, he cracked a smile. "Because I'm ugly.

"Neville!" she laughed. "Stop! Don't even joke like that! You are not. But also... same."

"Okay," he grinned with her, "you definitely don't even joke about that. You are not ugly."

"Mmm, not to me," she played. "I think I'm cute."

"You are."

Her heart beat heavily against her chest as she stared up at Neville. He smiled nervously at her, then moved his gaze down to his feet as his smile faltered.

"Thanks!" she said brightly, although much quieter than anything else she had said recently. "So are you."

"I-I'm cute?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Remember, I told you that you were handsome. I think everybody is pretty. Everyone looks so unique and I just love looking at people."

He smiled, then his eyes moved just behind her head. At once, he grabbed her elbow. "Don't move."

Lenore panicked. There was something behind her. "What?" she whispered.

Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. Neville stepped closer to her, so close that she could lean forward and her entire torso would collide with him. He ignored her and continued staring behind her. His hand tightened around her arm.

"Neville," she whimpered.

Neville squinted. "There's a thestral straight behind you."

Lenore froze. "How far away?"

"Maybe... fifty meters."

Lenore turned around and backed her body into his. Her head twisted in every direction, until she remembered she could not see the creatures. This part of the forest was considerably darker than the entrance. The trees were taller and the ground colder. The wind could not be felt between the trunks. It gave off a weird vibe, like an alien crop circle in a cornfield. Still, Lenore saw no signs of a thestral.

"Is it a tamed one or a mean one?" she asked.

"I-I don't know. How can you tell?"

"Does it look mean? Has it noticed us?"

"It's coming towards us."

Lenore tensed up and Neville held her arm tighter. "Do we run? Do we stay? Oh my god, Neville, where is it?"

"Can you see the grass it's displacing on the ground?"

Lenore scrunched her eyes. "No. I can't see that well in my glasses. How close is it?"

"About... five meters now."

Lenore panicked. She stepped back, putting Neville between her and the invisible winged horse. She clutched the back of his jumper with both hands and peeked around his back.

"Neville," she murmured against his back.

She could hear him swallow. "It's that close already? Is it moving fast?"

He nodded. "Shhh."

Lenore closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Neville's back. His jumper was tangled up in her fingers. "It's okay, Len," he whispered. "Don't worry."

"It's a domesticated one?"

Neville hesitated, then exhaled, "If it were mean, it would have charged us by now, right?"

"I... I think so. How close is it?"

Neville swallowed again, then stepped closer.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, still clutching his jumper for dear life.

Neville slowly reached out his hand, then flipped his palm over. Lenore watched him stand completely still, staring into the blank air. At once, he flinched slightly and she jumped.

"It's okay!" he smiled back at her. "It's sniffing my hand."

Lenore's heart attempted to recover from her fear. She saw absolutely nothing in front of them. "Neville, you aren't shitting with me, are you?"

"No!" he laughed. "Give me your hand."

She removed one hand from his jumper and placed it in his open palm. Neville moved her over slightly, then placed her hand in the air. Except it was not air. It was warm and boney and felt like velvet. She could feel it breathing in and out in a constant rhythm. She gasped. "Am I touching it's back?"

"Yep. It's not a mean one. It's domesticated."

Lenore stroked the thestral's soft coat a few times. "Holy shit," she exhaled. "I'm touching it. This is so weird."

"For the longest time, I didn't know people couldn't see them," Neville said.

"For the longest time, I didn't know they existed," she smiled.

She loosened her hold on his jumper, then exhaled a long breath and placed her cheek on his upper arm. "Just let me recover a minute," she said. "I almost puked in fear."

"I-I could tell," he smiled as he looked down on her.

Her eyes twinkled behind her scrunched cheek and Neville would not take his eyes off of her. She crinkled his jumper into her right palm as her left hand stroked the thestral.

"There is so much irony in this," she said.

"What?"

"Fear of the unknown. This thestral is nice, but because you can't see it, it was scary. This is Mother Nature playing a cruel joke on humanity's deepest fear."

"They really aren't scary," Neville said. "They're kind of cute, in a way."

"What do they look like?"

"They're pretty much horses, but imagine a vacuum inside them is sucking all their skin tight against their bones. And they've got long, veiny wings without feathers. They're brownish-grey and their eyes are milky. I'd say they're a little taller than a normal horse."

Lenore gave him a soft smile. "They sound pretty."

Neville searched her face, which lovingly watched the invisible horse. Her long lashes blinked with purpose and her inviting lips curved slightly upwards and the hair near her face fell behind her ears. She caught herself squinting, as if that would help her view the living creature.

"You're not going to ask me how I can see them?"

Lenore glanced back up at him in surprise, then shook her head. "No. I didn't think you'd want to talk about that."

"I'll tell you, i-if you want to know."

"Only if you want to," she said quietly.

"It was my Grandad," he said.

She frowned sympathetically.

Neville looked down at his hands. "I was eight years old. He died of natural causes. He was really old. Quite a few years older than Gran, because he died at ninety-five. It was Christmas Eve day, and I remember because Gran still gets sad around the holidays. The family was gathered around his bed and we watched as his chest just slowly stopped rising and falling. It wasn't dramatic or anything like you read about in books. It was just the absence of something that was once there."

Neville spaced out a moment, his once bright eyes glazed over. His grandfather's death did not really affect him much anymore. He never really felt sad about it, which could be even scarier than feeling. Just the idea of a person's last breath leaving their body, like he had seen his grandfather's, caused his mind worry. Lenore's soft hand moved from his back and slipped into his palm, breaking him out of his trance. She clutched his fingers and dangled their hands loosely by their sides. His eyes met hers, setting off sparks like a match had lit a firecracker in his heart.

"Luna can see them, too, you know."

"Y-yeah," Neville stammered, "s-she's mentioned that."

"So can Circe. She just didn't want to say so in class."

"Really?" he asked with wide eyes. "W-who did she see?"

Lenore bit her lip. "Her dad."

"Oh Merlin," Neville exhaled.

She nodded. "He was… murdered. By a muggle. In their house. The woman broke in to steal stuff and before her dad could even draw his wand, she shot him with a gun. She panicked and ran off, leaving Circe and her mother to watch him bleed out, nothing magic could do to make it stop. It happened when Circe was only five."

"That's horrible," Neville gapped.

"Yeah. I think that's a huge reason she has so many problems. When she told me I had no idea what to say. I still don't know what to say to her when she talks about it. She's had a hard life. I'm not good at talking to people who have been through so much shit, because my way of dealing with things is to pretend they don't exist or to make jokes, and that's not exactly helpful."

"I never know what to say either," Neville said. "To anyone. In any situation. Ever."

Lenore laughed. "You seem to talk to me just fine."

"You're different," he said at once.

She cocked her head. "Why?"

"I-I'm not sure. I… I guess I feel comfortable around you."

She smiled. "I'm glad. I notice you can talk to me more than anyone besides Dean and Seamus."

Neville nodded. "I like talking to you."

For a split second, Lenore felt something between them. She could not explain what it was. A flare of energy. It was the type of electric moment that forced the pit of her stomach to grow so heavy she felt like a weight was dragging her to the cold ground. A mixture of panic and affection swept over her body. The problem with affection was, it could mean so many different emotions. Friendliness, desire, care, how was she supposed to know which one it was? His eyes watched her so tenderly. She felt him squeeze her hand. She glanced down, breaking their eye contact. She had forgotten they were even holding hands.

"I like talking to you, too," she whispered quieter than she had intended. She tore her hand away from his awkwardly and instantly winced. It was such an embarrassing move. The motion made it seem like she was recoiling, but that was not the case. Lenore had to think of something to say to break the tension, but before she could open her mouth, Neville spoke. "W-we should be getting back to the others."

She could detect the despair in his anxious voice. As he said goodbye to the beautiful winged creature, Lenore searched her throbbing brain. She had to say something. "Neville?"

He paused.

"I really do like being around you."

The words bumbled as they exited her maladroit mouth, but Neville's face illuminated into a grin. "I do, too."

She returned the warm smile, then decided to spill her thoughts. "I-I didn't mean to pull away from you like that."

"Oh," he said, "y-you're fine! D-don't worry about it."

"Okay," she whispered.

Neville watched her a moment. "You stuttered."

Her lips parted. "Yeah, oops."

He smiled slightly and did not take his eyes off her. Lenore felt that same stupid spark as before. Before she could think of something to fill the silence, a tall boy and petite blonde emerged from behind a gathering of trees.

"Hey!" Margaux shouted. "We found you!"

Lenore broke her eye contact with Neville and turned to Margaux. "Where did you go?"

"Wait," Neville stretched his arms out in front of him and Lenore. "Be careful. There's a thestral."

"No way!" Margaux said. Her eyes searched the ground. "There is! I see it stepping on the grass."

She reached out to pet the animal's back. Lenore and Dean stared at her in disbelief. "What the hell?" Lenore asked. "How can you tell where it is?"

"Because I have eyes," she retorted. "Luna taught me how to look for signs of them. We come out here every so often."

"I don't see it either," Dean assured Lenore.

Margaux felt the thestral moving under her hand. "Is it leaving?"

Neville nodded. "It's walking back into those trees over there."

"Bye little guy!" she waved. "Alright, let's start walking back."

Dean separated himself from Margaux and the boys and girls split off into two groups. The boys strayed behind as the girls led the way. "So," Neville said, "do anything interesting while we were gone?"

"I should ask you the same question," he grinned. "Mar and I climbed a tree together."

"A tree? How high up did you go?"

"Maybe twenty-five feet," he said. "Not sure. I didn't look down. That shit is terrifying, mate. But she didn't even flinch so I had to follow her up there."

"You are going to get yourself killed for a stupid crush," Neville said.

"It's not a 'stupid crush.'" Dean was almost offended. "I could call your crush stupid."

"It is stupid. Look at her and look at me. You and Margaux are both at least fit. Mine is hopeless."

"I don't know, mate, she seems to like you well enough. I'd even say she's flirting with you at times."

Neville furrowed his eyebrows. "No, she couldn't be."

Dean shrugged. "Believe what you want, but she seems to like being around you."

"That's more than you can say for Margaux."

"Margaux is pretty warmed up to me by now. Hey, watch this," Dean said.

As they came upon the tree, Dean removed his wand from his pocket. On the bark, he blasted the words "Dagwood + Margaux 4ever."

Neville gasped. "Dean! She is not going to like that."

"I know, right?" Dean said. "Dagwood is the nastiest guy in her year."

"That's not what I m—"

But he was cut off as Dean shouted for Margaux to come see the tree. "HEY MARGAUX! COME TAKE A LOOK AT WHAT I FOUND!"

Margaux and Lenore met the boys at the tree. The younger sister's eyes went straight to the fresh carving where Dean pointed. Her mouth fell open.

"Did you do this?"

"No," Dean said, "I only found it."

Neville stayed silent, but Lenore watched him shift uncomfortably.

"I bet Dagwood did it," Dean said.

"I bet you did it," Lenore accused.

Margaux looked at Dean. The boy expected her to laugh. Or even just crack a smile. Instead, spread across her face was fury. "That's rather fucking rude."

"What?" he said, stepping back.

"Why did you write in Dagwood's name?"

"Because he's a weird-looking prat," he stated as if it were fact.

"That is so mean!" Margaux started to get worked up. "He's one of Derek's roommates and he's a nice guy! Nicer than you. Just because someone isn't hot doesn't give you the right to make fun of them! I thought you were better than this, Dean."

She left Dean and continued hiking back towards the castle. Dean jogged after her. He touched a hand to her arm. "Margaux, hey, I'm sorry."

"No!" she shoved his arm off her sleeve. "That was cruel, Dean! That's meaner than I've seen any Slytherin act. Go take it off the tree!"

Dean hesitated.

"GO!" she yelled.

Dean ran back, wiped the words off the trees, and hurried back to Margaux. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I thought you'd think it was funny. What, do you and Dagwood have a history or something?"

"You thought I would find bullying 'funny,' did you?" Margaux's eyes shifted from anger to pure amused rage. "How would you like it if I bullied you?"

"Go ahead," Dean said.

"Your hands are small."

Dean's eyes shot down to his hands. "What?"

"You have dainty hands. Look, I bet they're smaller than mine."

Margaux held her hand against his. Sure enough, her fingers were longer than his. Dean's mouth hung open.

"Doesn't feel good does it? I can keep going, if you want. Or I can get Lenore on this, she is the roasting queen."

Lenore, who had been listening in to the drama, quickly shook her head. "Don't involve me."

"You see how it feels?" Margaux said to Dean, who was still examining his hands. "Dean, your hands are fine." She slapped his hands down. "But do you see how it changes your life? Every time you look at your hands now, you're going to remember this. You think Dagwood doesn't hear how 'ugly' he is on a daily basis? You think he doesn't care that he's the brunt of so many jokes? You think he can just laugh it off? He can't. No one can. That's not how bullying works. I bet you've never been bullied, have you?"

Dean shook his head sheepishly.

"Neville," Margaux called him out. "You've been bullied. How does it feel?"

"N-not great."

"Lenore, you've been bullied. How did it feel?"

"Honestly, it feels way worse watching people be bullied than actually being bullied. Because I know I can get over it, but some people can't."

"'Some people can't,'" Margaux quoted as she beat her hands together on each word. "Dagwood can't. Do you know I've seen him cry before?"

"Oh Merlin, you haven't, have you?" Dean's eyes grew wide.

"Yes. I was sitting in Derek's room and Dagwood walked in in tears. He went straight to the toilets and shut the door, but we could hear him cry. When he came out, I asked him if everything was okay. I convinced him to tell me what happened and he said Pansy—"

Lenore rubbed her temples.

"—had made fun of his acne."

"Merlin, I'm so sorry," Dean said.

"You should _Pretty Woman_ him," Lenore suggested. "Like give him a makeover, as a confidence booster. If you do, I'd help."

"That's a good idea! I don't think he'd be up for it, but I'll figure out a way to ask. Oh my god, Len, let's do it. He asked me one time what he could do to fix his acne and I didn't know. That must mean he's open to change. Maybe we can find out the acne thing and help him!"

"Definitely! I bet he'd clean up nicely."

Margaux anger was replaced with pensiveness. She decided she would ask Dagwood next Tuesday, when she usually hung out in Derek's room with Luna. This would be a great idea.


	13. Chapter 13: Hospitals and Kisses

One Tuesday, Lenore met Margaux in the hallway and began their journey to the Ravenclaw tower. Their mission: to boost Dagwood Bukowski's confidence.

"Hey Len!" Margaux greeted. "Have you got the mixture?"

"I've got it in my bag!" Lenore said, patting her backpack.

"Did you look through your potions books for the recipe?" Margaux asked. She knew her sister was particularly adept at Potions, despite her argument that she was not.

"Yes! I stole some materials from class and made this in my dorm," she said, holding up a medium-sized vile of thick purple liquid.

"Did you test it out?"

"It seems safe. I didn't use it on my pimple, but I put it on my skin and it didn't burn. It should work. I followed the instructions."

"The instructions!" Margaux slapped her forehead. "That's why I fail every lab!"

"Yeahhhhh," Lenore mocked in a high-pitched voice, "you have to read those and follow them!"

"Too much," Margaux shook her head. "I craft what I want."

Derek Davies was waiting for them outside the Ravenclaw entrance. "Hey Henrys," he greeted. As he stated the password in riddle form, he whispered back to Lenore. "Margaux told me your plan. If you can pull it off, this kid is going to turn his life around."

"Is he in the room right now?" Lenore asked.

"Yeah," Derek nodded, "he's reading."

As the girls walked up the stairs to one of the fourth year Ravenclaw boys dormitories, Margaux noted yet again how similar the aesthetics were to the Gryffindor room. The only difference was, more breakable marble statues that would get knocked over the instant a playful Gryffindor fight broke out, and less chatter, more quiet thinking. Derek knocked on the door to give his roommate some warning. As they entered, Dagwood seemed to pay no mind. His face was buried deep into a book.

"Margaux is here," Derek said.

Dagwood did not look up. "Hi Margaux, hi Luna."

"Not Luna," Derek said. "It's Margaux's sister."

Dagwood stopped flipping his book pages in an instant. He looked up at Lenore. She smiled weakly. He sat up straight and said suspiciously, "You're the Slytherin."

"Yes," she said, a bit confused.

The boy began to gather up his books and place them in his backpack. "If you need me, Derek, I'll be downstairs."

"Hey!" Margaux said, blocking his exit between the beds. "What's your problem?"

"N-nothing," he said, "I-I just need a change of scenery."

"It's because I'm Slytherin," Lenore said.

"No!" Dagwood said quickly. "It… it's because... I see you hang around Pansy."

"Honey," Lenore said, "I probably hate Pansy more than you do. I have to live with her. I promise, I'm nice. For the most part."

Dagwood glanced from Margaux to Lenore. He reluctantly sat back down on his bed and unpacked. "I'm sorry," he said.

For the first time, Lenore took a good look at him. His face was covered in thick, red acne. His clothes hung loose around him in an unflattering drape. He was Neville's shape: not quite thin, not quite fat, but he was much shorter than Neville. Underneath the bad aspects of appearance, Lenore could tell he was a handsome kid. He had nice light eyes and thick blonde hair that only needed a trim and a good wash. With a few tweaks, his confidence could soar.

"Does Pansy bully you?"

Dagwood nodded and Lenore frowned. "She's a brat. But it's okay, she doesn't mean it. She's defensive."

Dagwood nodded silently, not willing to argue with Lenore.

"So," Margaux said, recalling the script her and Lenore had rehearsed on the walk there, "did you bring the pimple cure Derek asked for?"

Derek seemed surprised, but he played along. "Yes, I heard this stuff is great."

"Oh it is," Lenore said loudly. Margaux gave her a weird look at that "play it cool." Lenore took the vile out of her backpack. "I made it myself. Want to try it right now?"

Derek pointed to a small red pimple on his cheek. "Give me some."

The trio could feel Dagwood's eyes watching them. Lenore placed a little bit of the cream on Derek's face. "Leave it on for a minute, then wipe it off. Your pimple should be gone."

Lenore prayed her potion worked. Sure enough, within a minute, Derek emerged from his place in front of the bathroom mirror with completely clear skin. "Holy shit," he said. "This stuff is great!"

Margaux put some on her own forehead, as did Lenore on her chin. Within a minute, their spots were gone as well.

"Damn," Derek said. "Dagwood, you want to try some of this stuff?"

Dagwood pretended not to be listening. He glanced up from his book. "Sorry? What?"

"Some of this pimple cream," Derek said. "You want to try it?"

Dagwood shrugged. "What's the harm? Can't make it worse."

Lenore poured a good heap of the goo in his hand. "Rub it all over your face," she instructed him. "You might want to leave it one a little longer than a minute, since it's a large area."

After the words came out of her mouth, so realized how embarrassed Dagwood's face was. The group sat silent in anticipation. After two minutes flew by on her watch, Lenore instructed him to go to the sink and wash the green goo off. The three heard a scream from the bathroom.

"Shit," Lenore breathed, "I hope I didn't tear his skin off."

Derek, Margaux, and Lenore ran into the washroom to see Dagwood standing in front of the mirror, running his palms over his completely smooth skin.

Lenore screamed as well. "OH MY GOD! YOU LOOK SO GOOD!"

Derek's jaw was practically on the floor. Margaux repeated expletives. Dagwood could not stop touching his skin. A single tear escaped from his eye. "Merlin…" he breathed. His skin was practically glowing. "How," he kept muttering under his breath. He turned and hugged Lenore roughly. "Thank you. Thank you for this."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around him. "You're welcome!"

Dagwood continued to let the tears wash down his face. He gave Lenore one moe squeeze, then let go. He did not stop staring at himself in the mirror. Every so often he would wipe his nose or his eyes.

"I can give you the rest of this," Lenore offered him the three-quarters filled vile. "Don't use it more than once a week. And if you need more, let me know, I can steal more ingredients."

"I can't thank you enough," he said, "really. Even if this cream only lasts for today, that's one day I got to see my skin like this. Thank you."

"No problem," she smiled. "I told you I'm not mean."

"Not unless this is all a practical joke," the boy said.

Margaux gave him a soft smile. "Quit rubbing your face, you're only going to put more oil on it."

Dagwood removed his hands and returned to his bed. Derek glanced at Margaux, who gave a short nod.

"Heyyyy," Derek said slyly as he sat on Dagwood's royal blue comforter. "You know what would look really good with your new face?"

"What?"

"A fresh new haircut! Margaux here does great hair. She actually does mine."

"I do," Margaux said proudly.

Dagwood bit his lip. "O-okay, if you want to, sure. I've been meaning to get it cut."

"Sit on your trunk," she instructed him. He obeyed. Removing his robes from the hook on his dresser, she tied the garment backwards around his neck like a muggle barber. She ran her fingers through his hair. Her hand came back greasy. "I'm going wash your hair first," she said, wiping her hand on his back. "Derek, you got any of that hair potion I gave you left?"

Derek scurried to the bathroom and returned with the bottle of shampoo. "No, but I bought a shit ton of it down in Hogsmeade."

Margaux held the bottle in front of Dagwood's face. "You should use this stuff. It's the greatest. Derek's hair is the best, isn't it?"

Derek shook his thick, dark hair for effect. Dagwood nodded. Margaux splashed his hair with a bit of water from her wand. She put a good heap of potion in her hand and massaged his scalp with force. She rinsed the mixture out and began to slice hair left and right. She took quite a few inches off the side and created high, sweeping bangs on the top. Her wand blew his hair dry.

"Derek," she asked, "can you style his hair with some gel?"

"Yeah!" he said. He taught Dagwood how to use the gel without looking greasy. When his work was done, Derek backed away.

"Holy shit," Lenore said as her eyes caught sight of Dagwood.

"Dag, you look like a completely new person," Margaux said.

Derek shook his head. "I might not be the hottest roommate anymore."

"Can I look now?" Dagwood asked.

"Wait!" Lenore said as Margaux removed his cape. "Can I fix your clothes?"

"M-my clothes?" he asked. His cheeks turned red.

"Yeah," she said. "Real quick, I promise."

Once he agreed, Lenore worked her magic. She changed his shirt from a weird beige to a dark grey and altered the fit closer to his body. The jeans were hemmed so they did not fold at his ankles. She also made the pants tighter on his butt, which caused him some timidity. His socks changed from tube socks to black. She stepped back.

"Dag!" Margaux said. "You look fit!"

"The girls are going to be all over you, mate!" Derek said.

"You are totally fuckable," Lenore agreed.

The boy turned a bright shade of red. He stood frozen.

"Aren't you going to look?" Margaux said.

"I-I'm kind of scared to."

"Go!" Derek shoved him into the bathroom.

Dagwood's feet landed on the cold tile floor. His eyes remained down until he made it over to the full length mirror. He took a deep breath and looked up.

He nearly fainted. His skin was clear. His hair laid in all the right places. His clothes fell in a flattering shape. He was speechless. All his could do was stand with his hand covering his mouth. For the first time in his life, he stared at his reflection for more than a couple seconds. Dagwood felt good.

Derek punched his roommate on the arm, shocking him out of his trance. "Mate! You have to let me be there when you unveil your look!"

"Yes!" Lenore said. "Let's see!"

Dagwood shook his head. "No… no, I can't."

He quickly exited and returned to his bed. "I can't let people see me like this."

"What?" Margaux asked. "Why not?"

"W-what will they think? What if they think I gave into the bullying? I don't want it to seem like… I don't even know. Like I want to look this way for anyone but myself."

Lenore slowly sat down on his bed with him. "Hun, I completely understand. I went through the same thing for a little bit. But your worries never come true. People are going to be proud of you. They won't ever look down on you. And if they do, who gives a fuck, you're a fit person now!"

"Life is different as a fit person," Derek said with a grin. "You're on top now." Margaux pushed him. "Ow! I'm just kidding!"

"It is different," Margaux said. "I'm by far not the prettiest girl in any friend group, but I watch how people act. Fit people are treated better. It sucks. It really does. But that's how it is."

"What you you talking about, not being the pretty one?" Dagwood said. "You're bloody fit, just like the rest of them. You, too," he nodded towards Lenore. "You don't know how scary it is."

"Hey!" Lenore spoke up. "I'll have you know I didn't always look like this! You never lose the past mindset. In the back of your mind, you're always going to be fat or ugly or have stringy hair or weird feet or whatever anyone makes fun of you for. You're never going to believe people when they tell you how pretty or handsome you are. But you just have to get over that. Taking care of yourself does not mean you gave in. Taking care of yourself means you love yourself, and fuck everyone else. You deserve to be happy and feel good."

Dagwood laid his head back against his headboard. "You're right."

"I am."

"I'm not leaving this room today, though. I want to make my debut tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is the last day of school," Margaux said.

"I know. I think that would be good timing, right?"

"Want me to fix some of your other clothes?" Lenore asked.

They spent about an hour talking, laughing, and messing around with Dagwood's clothes. After a while, Lenore looked down at her watch. "Shit, it's like an hour past curfew! I've got to get back and give Odette her study guides!"

"Study guides?" Derek asked.

"We've got a test in Charms tomorrow."

"Bloody hell," he replied. "Flitwick just doesn't stop, does he?"

"No, it's awful," Lenore sighed. "But the test should be pretty easy. It's more of a grade booster."

Lenore pulled the pieces of parchment out of her backpack, so she would not forget to head past the library and hand them to Odette. "Bye, Dagwood," she said. "I hope you feel great tomorrow. Don't let the bitches get you down."

Dagwood thanked her as she waved goodbye to Derek and Margaux. She made her way out of the Ravenclaw common room, careful not to look around, in fear she would see Oliver Rivers and be forced to converse with the boy. She checked her watch. It was so late. She couldn't be caught by any of the teachers. Odette said she needed the papers before she went to sleep and Lenore knew that would be soon. Lenore raced down the hallway, looking down at Odette's papers and attempting to organize them the way she had received them. As she rounded the corner, she ran smack into a tall body. Paper flew everywhere and Lenore hit her shoulder on the stone wall.

"I'm so sorry!" she said.

She looked up to see Neville. To his right was Luna.

He gulped. She was obviously the last person he had expected to run into. "No!" he said. "It was my fault."

Lenore rubbed her shoulder where she hit it. "No, it was me. I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Are you okay?" Neville asked, nodding towards her shoulder.

"I'm fine. Hi, Luna."

Luna gave a soft smile. "Hello, Lenore. Let me get those papers for you." She waved her wand and the papers gathered into a stack and flew into Lenore's arms.

"Thanks!" Lenore noticed how anxious and out of breath her two friends were. They sweated as if they had been running. "What are you guys doing out so late?"

Neville looked at Luna nervously.

"You can tell her, quickly," Luna said softly. "I trust any sister of Margaux. But really, we have to meet Ginny and Ron in a minute, so hurry!"

Lenore was beginning to grow anxious at all the secrecy.

"Okay," Neville said, "but Lenore, you can't tell anybody. You promise?"

"I promise."

Neville said in a hushed tone, "We just escaped from Umbridge's office. Harry had a… a vision of sorts that You-Know-Who captured Sirius Black and was keeping him at the Ministry of Magic. This is going to sound so ridiculous, but Len, I promise it's not. Harry had another vision like this before Christmas about Mr. Weasley and it came true. Mr. Weasley was saved thanks to Dumbledore and the Order, but this time Dumbledore isn't here to help. So the only way to rescue Sirius is to go there ourselves."

Lenore's mouth fell open. "You're going to the Ministry of Magic? To fight the Dark Lord?"

Neville shifted. It made him uncomfortable when she called him "The Dark Lord," but he understood she was merely repeating what she heard the Slytherins say. She most likely did not even realize she was doing it. "Well, um, yes."

"Neville," she said in disbelief, "you know that is dangerous, right? You know something terrible could happen?"

"I-I know," he whispered. "But we have to do it. Sirius is all Harry has left. We have to try."

Lenore shook her head. "How are you getting there?"

"Thestrals."

"You're going to ride thestrals as they fly? And then sneak into the Ministry to fight one of the most powerful wizards in existence?"

"Well, w-when you put it that way, it sounds stupid. B-but… but it has to be done."

Lenore was quiet. Her breathing was sharp and quick as she stared up into Neville's dark brown eyes. This couldn't be happening. This absolutely couldn't be happening. This was ridiculous. This was stupid, ill-planned, and almost certain to cause him injury. She watched Neville as she gathered her words, but nothing came out of her mouth. Her reaction to his response seemed to have discouraged him. His cheeks appeared to have sunk and his eyes were desperate. In that moment it became clear to her— Angelica was right all along: Neville fancied her.

Her lips parted. The way he looked at her, yearning for her approval, made Lenore realize the depth of his feelings. Her mind flashed back to so many moments over the past year— moments when it should have been obvious he had a crush on her. The stuttering, which appeared in times she made him nervous. The kind ears, ready for her to spill her problems out for him to hear. The soft eyes, always watching her intently as she talked. He watched her right now with those same eyes. He was waiting for a response.

Lenore could not let him go into such a dangerous situation feeling depressed. He was going to be injured, she knew it. Something was going to happen to him. Before she knew what she was doing, she slipped her hands under his elbows and wrapped her arms around his back, setting him into an obvious state of shock.

Neville froze. All he could do was feel her warm body pressed against his and try not to faint. Lenore could feel his heart beating wildly against her cheek. She had wanted to hug him for some time. Way back in early March, after the Seven Minutes in Heaven game, she grabbed his hands. She had wanted to hug him then but it felt too odd. And then when Randall pushed Margaux and Lenore started crying that night, she had wanted him to take her in his arms. Most recently, just yesterday when they viewed the thestral. He could have hugged her and she would not have objected.

Lenore held on for a few moments, pressing her face into his chest and soaking up his warmth. He had not yet found the courage to hug her back, so she gave him a few extra seconds.

"Nev," she whispered, "I-I understand why you have to do it. Just please…" She squeezed the fabric of his shirt between her fists. "Come back safe."

"I-I will," he stammered.

Just as he reached around to reciprocate the hug, Lenore leaned back. His arms wrapped around her back as her hands flew to the back of his head. She took a deep breath, stood on her tip-toes and gave him a peck on the cheek as she gripped his hair under her fingers. Neville's eyes grew wide. His mouth dropped open, taking in a faint gasp of air. His cheek was warm and smooth under her lips. She could not believe she was doing this. She had never initiated a kiss before, even if it was just a kiss on the cheek. His skin was electric under her lips and that's when she knew it.

She had feelings for him, too.

She laid her cheek against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Neville," she murmured in his ear, "be careful, please."

"I-I will, Len," he said through a cracked voice.

"Really," she whispered. "Please. I need you to be safe."

He nodded, but she could tell his nerves stopped him from speaking. She leaned back and met his eyes. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

He stared into her sparkling eyes for a few seconds. Lenore knew she had scared the piss out of him. When he came back— She paused. He had to come back. She could not think about this right now. Merlin, he better come back.

"O-okay," he said.

She smiled faintly, her fear consuming her once giddy glee, and turned to Luna, giving her a quick hug as well. "You stay safe too, Luna. I know Margaux would want to tell you to be careful."

"Of course," she said in her usual whimsical tone.

Lenore shot one more glance to Neville. "Really," she said as she grabbed his hand. "I'll be worried about you until I see you again."

"I-I promise, I'll be back," he whispered.

Lenore nodded and squeezed his hand. "Okay. Be safe. Kick some ass."

Neville smiled and she finally let out a nervous giggle. She gave him another squeeze, then said, "See ya."

"Come on, Neville," Luna said as she waved to him. "We must hurry."

Neville shot one last glance back as Lenore before he ran after Luna. As his legs dragged him through the near-empty halls, he blinked a few times in shock. He felt like he was floating on air.

 _Lenore had hugged and kissed him._

 ** _xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

The next morning, Margaux met Derek Davies outside the Ravenclaw Tower bright and early for their morning run. Every Wednesday and Saturday morning, and whenever they felt motivated, the two worked out together. Generally, this constituted running the rocky hills on the west side of the castle and today was no different.

"Hey, Mar," he greeted her. Derek was clad in a pair of red running shorts and a tight grey t-shirt, while Margaux wore her usual tank top and spandex shorts. Today was the last day of school before the teens caught the _Hogwarts Express_ home tomorrow morning. As Margaux and Derek sprinted the slopes, they excitedly discussed Dagwood's forthcoming emergence between gasps for air. Margaux intended to be there, so she packed a bag and brought her backpack so she could change in Derek's room and follow Dagwood around, no matter if he liked it or not.

After they finished the course, they returned to the fourth year Ravenclaw boys dormitory. Ankur waved a goodbye to the two as he descended the stairs. The other two roommates had already gone down to breakfast, so that left Derek, Dagwood, and Margaux. Dagwood still laid in bed, eyes wide open, but not moving.

"What are you doing?" Margaux demanded as soon as she saw him. "We've got to get to breakfast!"

Derek ripped the sheets off Dagwood's torso, revealing he was still in his pyjamas. "Dag!" Derek said. "You better hurry up!"

Dagwood rolled over onto his back. "I don't want to get up."

Derek look at Margaux, who nodded at him. Together, they picked the boy up and out of bed. He thrashed around in protest, but they managed to lay him on the floor.

"Get up!" Derek said. "You are going to wow them all today."

Dagwood slowly stood up.

"Get dressed and cleaned up," Margaux said, tossing him his recently tailored school uniform. "We'll help you do your hair again."

Dagwood took his sweet time in the bathroom washing his face, while Margaux tapped her foot impatiently. She cleaned herself up and donned her uniform, and after she was done, she checked her brown wristwatch. They needed to be downstairs within the next minutes in order to have plenty of time to eat breakfast.

"Dagwood," she said, switching her tone to friendly rather than agitated. "Are you ready?"

Slowly, he emerged from the bathroom. Derek did the boy's hair as he stood completely still, an empty look in his eyes. "What's wrong?" Derek asked as he caught sight of his roommate's face.

Dagwood exhaled weakly. "I'm nervous."

"Why?" Margaux asked. "Everyone is going to love you."

Derek scanned Dagwood's facial expression. "He's not worried about everyone. He's worried about one person," he smiled slyly.

Dagwood immediately clapped a hand over Derek's face. "Shut up, please," he whispered.

Margaux's eyes grew wide. "Dagwood, you fancy somebody? Who?"

"I-I can't tell you," Dagwood said, shooting Derek a nasty glance.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Y-you would tell her."

"No!" Margaux argued. "I promise I won't. You can trust me."

Lost in his thoughts, Dagwood's hand slipped down Derek's face, who seized the opportunity to say, "It's one of your roommates!"

"NO!" Margaux gasped. "Which one? Verona? She's a looker."

Dagwood's hand covered his friend's face once more. "No," he said quietly.

"Ginny?" Margaux asked.

He shook his head nervously.

"Kadence? You know she's gay, right?"

"It's Helaine," he whispered.

Margaux's mouth dropped open. Helaine was so shy. She never heard of any guys who had a crush on Helaine, no matter how cute she was, simply because she was so shy. She tended to be a loner, only talking if someone talked to her first. The only person she really seemed to let into her life was Verona, her much more outgoing best friend. Margaux had no idea when Dagwood and Helaine would even have interacted. "Helaine?" she asked, still in shock. "How?"

Dagwood was now a bright shade of red. "W-we were partners on a Herbology project earlier this year. S-she's so lovely."

Margaux nodded. Helaine was incredibly gorgeous. She was half-Korean, half-Liberian, which made for a beautiful combination of genes. The girl was just so quiet around people who were not her roommates, Margaux still had trouble believing Dagwood.

"But don't tell her, Margaux, please," Dagwood begged.

"What do you like about her?" Margaux asked.

Dagwood looked at his feet. "I-I'm not sure. She's so kind. And smart. And I like talking to her. I can't really pinpoint one thing, b-but she has this energy that I loved being around when we were partners, it was like a drug. And now she never talks to me."

Margaux frowned. "Dag, she will think you are absolutely gorgeous today. I'll help you with her. She really is a wonderful girl and I bet she is open to the idea of you. I saw her blush one time when I said I was coming over here and I mentioned your name."

"Did she really?" Dagwood's eyes shot up.

Margaux nodded. "She did. Now, let's hurry up and get to breakfast before I dine on my own arm."

Somehow, Margaux always seemed to be helping other people with their romantic problems. It was rare for her to have her own love troubles. If a boy was causing her grief, she merely left his arse in the dust. She had a zero tolerance policy for the dumb games boys like to play. Michael, however, was a sweetheart so far. She hoped he would continue being wonderful at the muggle dance this weekend.

The three of them entered the Great Hall as usual. At first, the room buzzed with it's usual early morning activity. Then, a small Ravenclaw girl shook her male friend's arm. They turned to stare at Dagwood. Soon enough, a large portion of the room was staring at him in shock.

"Come sit with me and my roommates," Margaux grabbed Dagwood's arm.

"No, Margaux—" he protested. But it was too late, she was already dragging him towards the Gryffindor table.

"Hi girls!" Margaux announced. Her three roommates were already staring at her group before she arrived. "Mind if we sit here?"

They stared in silence at Dagwood. Verona was the first to speak. "Holy shit, Dagwood, what happened to your face?"

Dagwood appeared even more apprehensive than before.

"What she means," Kadence clarified in a friendlier tone, "is… what did you do to clear up your skin?"

"I-I got a potion that fixed it."

"And your hair!" Verona said. "You cut it!"

Not only were the girls staring at him, but a majority of the Gryffindor table. Margaux noticed Dagwood kept flickering his eyes to Helaine.

"It's so flattering, isn't it?" she said, pointing to his hair.

"You are fit!" Verona said.

Kadence nodded in agreement. "I can't even believe it's you right now."

"What do you think, Helaine?" Margaux asked. She glanced at Dagwood, who probably would have shot daggers at her if he were not waiting desperately for Helaine's answer.

Helaine bit her lip. Margaux knew she would not talk much with Derek next to her. She gave a shy smile and said quietly, "You look great."

Margaux could see Dagwood's knuckles turn white as he clenched the edge of the table. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Hey," Margaux said. "Where's Ginny? Did she not come to bed last night?"

The three other girls shook their heads.

Margaux searched the teacher's head table for McGonagall. She spotted the witch worriedly tapping her fork against the table. Margaux decided to get up and speak with her.

"Professor," she said, "Ginny never came to bed last night and I don't see her at breakfast. Have you seen her?"

McGonagall peered up from the table. "Miss Weasley is in the hospital wing at the moment."

"What?" Margaux gasped. "Why?"

The grey-haired teacher seemed to hesitate. "I suppose you will find out sooner than later. It's all in the newspapers, the part about the adults. Ginny and some other students went to the Ministry last night and fought You-Know-Who."

Margaux's mouth dropped open. "No! No! She didn't! That can't be true."

"I'm sorry to report it is. Your friend Luna went, as well."

"Thank you, Professor," Margaux shouted back as she hurried to the Ravenclaw table, where each morning they read the _Daily_ Prophet. She politely asked one of the younger girls to let her see the paper. Her eyes scanned the article. _Harry Potter. Department of Mysteries. Death Eaters. Voldemort._ The newspaper made no mention of the other students there, but she knew immediately that's where Ginny went. Her breath caught in her lungs and her mouth grew dry. The newspaper hit the table and Margaux took off running towards the hospital wing, passing through the stone hallways, and finally coming upon the heavy wooden doors of the hospital wing. Outside, her sister stood pacing.

"Lenore?" Margaux said in shock. "What are you doing here?"

Her sister fiddled with her hands anxiously and said, "I saw them leave yesterday. Neville and Luna. They told me not to tell anyone. So, I didn't. Today I heard chattering in the common room that a bunch of the 'idiotic' Gryffindors were in the hospital wing. It's all in the _Daily Prophet_ , you know?"

"Why aren't you inside?"

Lenore looked up and down the door. "I-I don't know."

Margaux shook her head at her sister's hesitation and pried open the enormous doors. Standing on the other side, was Luna.

"LUNA!" Margaux shouted, attacking the blonde into a hug.

The girl giggled and spun her around. "Hello, Margaux!"

Margaux pulled away just enough to see her friend's face. She cupped Luna's face in her hands. "Luna! How are you?"

"I'm okay! I'm healed all up."

"Why are you in the entrance? Not in bed?"

"Madam Pomphrey is having me watch the doors to make sure nosy people don't get in."

"Are we not allowed in here?" Margaux asked.

"Technically not," Luna said, "but I'll cover for you two. Hi Lenore!"

"Hi, Luna!" she said, her eyes distracted by what could be behind the curtain separating the entrance from the hospital. "I'm so glad you're okay! How is everyone else?"

"Everyone will make a smooth recovery. The only person still healing is Hermione. She got hit with a pretty bad curse, but she will be fine in a matter of hours. Ginny is doing fine, too," she said mostly to Margaux. Then she turned to Lenore and smiled reassuringly. "And Neville is mostly healed."

"Can we see her?" Margaux asked.

"Yes!" Luna cooed. "Let's go!"

The blonde witch pulled back the curtains to reveal the hospital. To their left, Hermione laid in bed, asleep, as Ron and Ginny sat in chairs next to her. Neville was two beds down, sitting straight up with a blank look in his eye. Noticeably absent was Harry Potter. Luna led Margaux over to Ginny, who stood up immediately and hugged her. They moved away from Hermione's bed to give her quiet time to rest.

Neville's eyes met Lenore's. He felt his entire body tense up. He did not expect her to visit him. She hurried over to his bed, heart pounding against her ribs. "Hi, Neville," she said.

He sat up straighter in bed. "Hi, Len. How are you?"

She stood by the side of his bed. "How am I?" she laughed. "Neville! How are you?"

"I-I'm fine," he stammered. "W-would you like to sit down?"

"Sure, if you're okay with that."

Neville moved over in the bed to open up a spot near his knees for Lenore. She sat down softly, as if not to hurt him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. "Not too fragile?"

"Fragile?" he wondered. "No, I don't think so."

"Good."

She flung her arms around his torso and pulled him into a hug. Neville's already queasy stomach did a somersault. His breath grew ragged and uneven, but he still managed to gently place a hand on her back. She smelled faintly of vanilla and her chin applied slight pressure to his shoulder. Her breath heated up his neck. His stomach would not stop lurching as her fingers pressed into his back, each one individually holding him. The hug lasted maybe six seconds, but to him, it was a lifetime.

"Sorry," she leaned away. "Did that hurt?"

"N-no," he said. He did not want her to let go. He wanted her to be near him forever, or at least for the next few minutes, to remind him he was alive.

"I read in the _Prophet_ about what happened," Lenore interrupted his thoughts.

"You did?"

"I did. Holy shit, Neville. Are you sure you're okay? You must've seen some scary stuff."

"I-I'm fine."

"You're so brave."

Neville felt his face get hot. "Th-thank you."

"Were you scared?" she asked.

"T-to be completely honest, yes. I would have to be stupid to not be scared. But I… I think something in me was stronger than the fear."

"Okay, Nev, if you need to talk, I'm here for you. Really. I've got grandpas and uncles who were in the military, I know they've seen things and not talked about them and it hurts them. If you need to talk, I'm here."

His heart warmed. "Thank you."

Lenore's eyes watched him so lovingly, or maybe he was imagining it. "Where did you get hurt? I can see your face is a bit torn up."

"Oh, um," he rubbed his cheeks with one hand. He was suddenly very self-conscious of his appearance. Lenore cringed, like she realized she probably could have phrased her words a little more delicately.

"Well, my nose is the main reason I'm in here. Bellatrix Lestrange—"

"The woman who—" but Lenore clapped a hand over her mouth.

Neville could tell what she wanted to say. He bit his lip and nodded.

"She hit me in the face. My mouth was busted up pretty bad. After a while, I couldn't even recite any spells. I still feel like I'm talking weirdly. On top of that, my wand was broken beyond repair. Actually, it was my dad's old wand."

As Neville spoke, he became conscious of the fact that Lenore's leg was touching his. He glanced down at her thigh. Lenore looked down too. She had not even realized how close she was to him.

"Sorry," she said quietly, pulling her leg away from him.

"N-no, don't apologize." Neville cringed. It seemed to make it seem obvious that he enjoyed the feeling. However, Lenore only said, "Your dad's wand?"

Neville nodded, but soon learned that movement hurt his neck. "Yeah, I never got my own wand, I've had my dad's forever."

"Does it work that way? I thought the wand had to choose you."

He shrugged. "It's worked okay for me. Gran is not going to be happy she has to buy a new one."

"She probably won't be happy you left school to fight Death Eaters, either."

"No," Neville said, "if anything she'll be ecstatic."

Lenore gave him a weird look, but said, "Have you seen her yet?"

"She's on her way."

"Are your nose and jaw the only problems, or what else happened to you?"

"I have a few scrapes and bruises on my stomach," Neville said, "but other than that, I'm fine."

"Wow," she breathed. "I am so glad you're okay."

"I told you I would be," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

To Lenore, the moment felt very intimate. She could not explain exactly why. For Neville, he simply enjoyed her brilliant eyes staring into his. He watched her lips, which had touched on his body less than twenty-four hours ago, move as she spoke.

"I, um, had trouble sleeping last night because I was worried about you all. So if I look tired, that's why. I'm running on about four hours of sleep, if that. That's also why I probably seem emotional," she laughed nervously. "But you must not have slept at all?"

Neville shook his head and studied her face. Now that she mentioned it, he could tell she was tired. She had dark circles underneath her eyes and her cheeks almost seemed hollow.

"Were you really that worried about us?"

"I was."

Neville was not sure what to say. He wanted to ask why she was so concerned or what exactly she was scared of. But he was pretty sure he knew the answers even though she would have avoided the question. Lenore was never very open about her feelings. He could tell she preferred to deal with her struggles inwardly. Still, decided to try and ask.

"What were you worried about?"

She bit her cheeks. "I... I was worried one of you would die. I was worried I'd never see you again."

His stomach clenched as he held her gaze steadily. "W-well... I'm here and now you get to look at my manky face."

Lenore laughed and he could see the joy radiating in her eyes. She continued to stare into his eyes with a gentle smile and he could not stop himself from filling the silence with a question that had dogged his mind for too long.

"Lenore..." he said quietly, so that no eavesdroppers could hear, "are we... friends?"

Her face turned to surprise and then maybe even annoyance. "What? Of course we're friends."

"I-I mean..." He did not know how to form his words. "Like, close friends?"

"You're my close friend," she said gently. "I don't know if you feel the same, but I tell you more than I tell most people."

"You... you're my close friend, too," he nearly whispered.

She watched him another moment, then scooted up closer on the bed and quickly wrapped her arms around him once more. Shock set over his body, but this time he was able to force his arms around her. This was the first time he had ever hugged her and he loved it. He could feel her lips on his skin, although she was definitely not kissing him. Her face rested in his neck and her hands pinched his shirt between her fingers. His hands clutched her tightly as she relaxed into him.

"Neville," she murmured into his neck.

His stomach flipped. He really was glad to be alive. If he had died, he would never have gotten to feel her this close to him ever again. He knew this was just a friendly hug. It even felt just like a friend hug. He could imagine Luna or Ginny or even Dean hugging him this way and he would not give it a second thought. However, with Lenore, it was different. He had wanted to hug her every time he saw her for the last year, and in the past 24 hours, he had gotten to do so three times.

He turned his head slightly, so that his face rested in her lavender-scented hair. He wanted to memorize everything about her. The way her back felt under his fingertips, the smell of her perfumed hair, how it felt to have her lips on his skin, and more. This hug was lasting a really long time, probably about fifteen seconds so far, which left him dumbstruck. She must have been truly concerned for him last night.

He felt her hot breath cascade down his neck and she desperately sighed, "I'm just really glad you're okay."

"I-I'm glad, too," he managed to say.

She pulled away, leaving Neville in a state of utter shock and awe.

"So—"

Neville felt his breath catch in his chest as she smiled playfully at him. God, he wanted her near him forever.

"—since we're close friends, I guess that means we have to hang out this summer."

"Y-yeah," he said. "Definitely. I-if you want."

She hesitated. "Do you know how to use a telephone?"

"A… a what?"

"A phone. Muggles use it to talk to one another when they are long distance."

Lenore could obviously see the blank look in his eyes. She made the shape of a phone with her pinkie and thumb and held it to her ear. "You know, this thing? They have phone boxes on the street corners in London?"

"Ohhhh," he finally had the faintest idea of what she was talking about. "I think I know."

"Have you ever used one?"

"No," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, um," she reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, "I am going to give you my telephone number— if you want it— in case you want to contact me during the summer."

Neville held out his hand as Lenore dropped the folded paper into his palm. He glanced between her and the paper in his hand with wide eyes. She had it ready. She had been wanting to give him her phone number even before they hugged. Bloody hell, Neville had seen enough cheesy movies with Dean's little sisters to understand that a phone number was a big deal in muggle culture.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "It's probably not the best form of communication, but it's the best one I have. I live in a muggle neighborhood and my owl isn't the brightest so I try not to use her in the summer. Maybe someone could help—"

"Thank you," he interrupted.

She smiled. "You're welcome."

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING HERE?" Madame Pomphrey bellowed.

Both Lenore and Neville jumped in surprise. Margaux's head also perked up.

"Get out!" she screeched. "You can come back later, if I decide to have visiting hours tonight."

Lenore turned back to Neville. "Have a great summer."

"You too."

Lenore hesitated. She placed her hand on his arm. "And Nev, when I say 'call me', I really do mean it."

"O-okay. I'll learn to telephone just for you."

Lenore laughed at his use of the word. "See you later."

"'Talk to you later', I believe you mean."

"OUT! Now," Madame Pomphrey screeched.

Lenore jumped. She hesitated, then hugged him once more and he managed to pat her back, which immediately made him cringe. "Bye," she said. "Keep me updated on your injuries."

"I will," he whispered. "Bye."

She followed her little sister out of the room, leaving Neville clutching the tiny piece of folded paper. He opened the folds twice and inside, in beautiful penmanship, read Lenore's telephone number. Below the numbers, she wrote, " _You can also send me an owl. Phone is just easier. Call me and I'll give you my address._ "

He smiled to himself. Lenore wanted to spend time with him this summer. He had never seen her during the summer before, save for the back to school shopping in Diagon Alley. She tended to stick around muggles in the summer, he assumed. Muggles and her friends. But now they were friends. Close friends. He grinned until he felt a sharp pain in his side and that's when he remembered the large cut on his right ribs.

He had kept the cut secret from Lenore. Also, he did not mention the Cruciatus curse being used on him. He would tell her one day, but he did not want to add more worry to her day. She seemed to leave happy, despite her original concern. Still, Neville smiled. He had hugged Lenore Henry and she had given him a way to contact her during the summer. These past 24 hours had been wild.

He clutched the paper in his hand and shoved it in his trouser pocket. Gran would be here any moment and he did not want to explain the phone number to her. He attempted to memorize the number just in case something happened to it, before he realized she lived in the same neighborhood as Dean. Even if he lost the number, he was sure he could figure out a way to contact her.


	14. Chapter 14: Margaux's Muggle Dance

**Thank you to Olivia0707 for leaving a review! This chapter begins the summer break from Hogwarts.**

"MARGAUX!" Lenore shouted as her sister descended the hallway steps. "YOU LOOK GORGEOUS."

Placing one foot in front of the other, Margaux teetered down the stairs garbed in all her end-of-term dance gear. Her long maroon dress shimmered in the natural light streaming in from the front door, each sequined bead reflecting the light ten-fold.

"You really are beautiful, baby," said their mother, Clair Henry. Clair was shorter than Margaux, with wavy golden brown hair styled just above her shoulders, bright blue eyes, and tanned, youthful skin. Clair's arms shot out for the camera on the hall table. "Is Michael coming soon?"

"He should be here any moment," Margaux said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Are you really going to walk to the school in those heels?" Lenore asked.

"His mom is going drive us," Margaux said.

At that moment, Tim Henry emerged from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand. He was a worn-looking intellectual-type, only a few inches taller than Lenore, with thick salt and pepper hair and a mustache to match, thick-rimmed glasses, and energetic brown eyes.

"Tim, isn't it a bit late to be drinking coffee?" Clair said. "You're going to be up all night."

"I'm preparing to wait up for Margaux," he said slyly as he took a sip of the bitter black liquid. "Sweetie, you look wonderful."

"I said I would be awake," Lenore said. "You don't have to stay up."

"Ha!" Tim laughed. "Yes, how about I just let my fifteen year old daughter wander around the town at night? That sounds like a plan. Thank you, Lenore, for bringing that idea to my attention. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the den watching TV and ignoring my children."

"What's different from any other day?" Lenore grinned.

Tim lightly smacked his oldest daughter with the paperback novel he clutched. "Nonsense," he smiled. "And don't make jokes, because you get to be the favorite child today."

"What?" Margaux demanded. "Why?"

"Because Lenore steers clear of boys," he smiled.

"More like boys steer clear of her!"

Lenore faked offense as Tim laughed. Behind them, they heard a knock on the door. "I'll get it!" Clair shouted.

Her wrist turned the doorknob, revealing a smiling young man on the front porch. He was handsome, with tanned skin, floppy gold hair, and a bright smile. In his hands, he held a small white corsage.

"Hi, Mrs. Henry!" he said warmly. "Is Margaux here?"

"You just missed her," Lenore stepped in. "She left without you and said to meet her there."

Margaux yelled, "Hey!" as her sister feigned closing the door. She hurried down the last few steps and opened the door again. Behind her, she heard the sound of Lenore and Tim's hands slap into a high-five.

"Sorry about them," she said to Michael.

He grinned. "Perfectly alright. You look lovely tonight, as always."

Margaux's blush was interrupted by her mother's screech.

"Everyone out to the front lawn!" Clair said. "We've got to take photos."

As Clair exited the house, her eyes moved over to the street. She squinted at the Chevrolet SUV parked in front of the house. "Why… is that Debra?"

Michael's eyes flickered between Margaux and Clair. "Yes, ma'am, do you know my mother?"

"Debra!" Clair called with a wave.

The woman in the drivers seat jumped out of the car faster than they expected. Within seconds, she was in Clair's arms, giving her kisses on the cheek.

"Clair!" the tall blonde woman cooed. "Oh my gawwwwwd! I haven't seen you in years!"

"Oh god," Clair said, "how long has it been?"

"Nearly fifteen years," Debra said, pointing to Michael. "Remember the office threw us that joint baby shower?"

"I do!" Clair gasped. "Oh my, I feel ancient now. Look at you! You've only gotten more beautiful with time!"

"You, too, dear!"

"Wait," Margaux interjected. "You two know each other?"

"We sure do!" Debra said. "Your mother and I used to work at the Embassy together. She worked in accounting, I worked in the visa department. After Michael was born, I became a stay-at-home mum and we lost track of each other after a few years. Oh, this is wonderful. I had no idea we lived in the same area! Or that our kids knew each other!"

"Me neither! This is fantastic. We need to catch up."

"How about after I drop these two off, we go for coffee?" suggested Debra.

"Sounds like a plan! We'll have to—"

"Mum," Lenore cut her off. "Can I take the photos while you blab away? They are already late to the dance."

Clair shot her daughter an annoyed glance, but handed her the camera.

"Thank god," Margaux breathed.

The pair posed in plenty of serious and playful poses as Lenore snapped away. Tim shook Michael's hand, scared the piss out of him, and the two found themselves in the back of Debra's car, with Clair sitting in the front seat loudly laughing at their nickname for their old supervisor.

"Well, this is off to a great start," Michael whispered.

"Could be worse," Margaux grinned. "It could have been revealed that we are cousins."

"Very true," the boy smiled.

Debra dropped the kids off on the curb outside the school gymnasium. Michael assured his mother he would be home by midnight and that his friend Kunal would give them a safe ride home. Outside, dozens of strange teenagers toed the concrete slab into the gym. Margaux suddenly felt nervous. To her left, she felt Michael slip his hand in hers.

"Alright, Mar," Michael said, "now remember this is a state school dance. This won't be anything like your fancy private school functions."

Margaux laughed. "I have no airs. Except there is a pair of underwear on the ground over there."

Michael smiled at the lacy pink thong someone had apparently abandoned in the car park before the dance. "It's about to get much worse."

The gymnasium was hot and humid. Large industrial fans blew air in from outside, but it did not help with the humidity.

"You don't have air conditioning in here?" Margaux asked.

"What did you think this was? Kensington Palace?"

Margaux elbowed him with a giggle. The room was dark and filled with activity. Straight ahead, a dance floor featuring about four hundred kids shook the entire room. Against the left wall, a long table offered small desserts and individually canned drinks.

"What, no punch bowl?" she asked.

"No, not after last year when someone spiked it."

"I wasn't aware that happened outside the movies."

"Oh, there's a lot of things that go on here that will surprise you," he said. "Come on, want to meet my friends? You might remember some of them."

Margaux obliged and followed Michael across the gym and through the dance floor to some tables where four teens sat.

"Oi!" Michael said. "This is Margaux Henry."

The first to shake her hand was a tall, thin boy with brown hair named Greg. Next, a short, older looking boy called Kunal gave her a firm handshake. Finally, the girl with pink and black braids named Heather hugged her and said, "I remember you! In year five we sat together at lunch sometimes!"

"Oh, I do remember!" Margaux said. "Wow! You grew up so pretty!"

Heather blushed. "Thanks! You are so pretty, too! I remember you had the longest blonde hair. I like it short like that, it's very stylish!"

"Thank you!" Margaux cooed. "I love your braids!"

"Do you really?" she asked as she glanced down at her hair. "I got them put in because I knew they'd match my dress, but now I'm thinking they're too much."

"Absolutely not! I love your whole outfit."

Heather placed her hand over her heart. "You're sweet!"

"Did you want to dance now that Michael is here?" Kunal asked Heather.

"What about Greg?"

Michael whispered in Margaux's ear, "Greg's date is here, but she is ignoring him."

"I'll be fine," Greg sighed. "You lot go on. I've got these cupcakes to keep me company."

Heather bit her lip to stop from laughing, so Margaux felt her amusement was validated. "California Love" by 2Pac blasted over the speakers as Michael took her hand and led her to the floor. They had a grand time getting down to the wild rap and dance music the DJ played, until after about five songs blended seamlessly into the next the DJ slowed it down with a Michael Bolton song. Half the dance floor cleared, leaving the group of four to split down the middle. Michael wrapped his arms around Margaux's back with a smile, which made her heart flutter. She returned the motion and they stepped nimbly over each other's feet.

"You're a pretty good dancer," she laughed.

"Thank you," he said in mock self-absorption, "I am quite the athlete."

She clutched his back tighter as the song surrounded her ears.

"Shit," Michael murmured into her shoulder after a minute.

"What?"

"Greg's date is dancing with another bloke."

"Where?"

"To your left. The girl in the light blue dress."

Margaux casually glanced in that direction. She saw a heavier-set, but still very pretty, girl dancing with a guy much fitter than Greg. "Oh, shit," Margaux said. "Should we do anything?"

"We could—"

But Michael was cut off by the sound of Greg's fist pounding the boy in the face. The bloke stumbled back, his rear hitting the floor as he fell and slid towards the DJ stage.

"Oh shit," Michael said, letting go of Margaux. "I'll be right back."

The bloke's friends came to his aid and started for Greg. Michael grabbed his friend's arm and pushed him towards the emergency exit. "Go! Go!" Margaux heard him shout over the music. Michael forced Greg out the door and told him to run. He closed the door and ran back to Margaux, as the three huge boys hurdled out the door after Greg.

"Shit!" Margaux said. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Michael said. "Greg can run. But if they catch him, it's not looking up. All three of those boys are on the wrestling team."

Margaux looked around wildly. Nobody even seemed to be disturbed, not even the teachers. "Does this stuff happen all the time?"

"All the time," Michael emphasized.

The music changed from slow to a Wheezer song Margaux vaguely remembered hearing her sister play. And so they went through that pattern a few times more, until Michael and Margaux found themselves together again exchanging playful banter. In the heat of the gymnasium, Margaux's palms began to sweat. Actually, quite a bit of her was sweating. "It's so hot in here," she said.

"I know," Michael said. "It's awful. We can leave soon if you want."

"Okay, next bad song, we'll go. Sorry my hands are all sweaty," she said, breaking their hands apart so she could wipe them on her palms on her dress.

"Totally fine," Michael said. "I bet I look like a mess right now."

"Nah," Margaux grinned.

"Well, that's good," he smiled back. "Because I wouldn't want to look awful next to someone as pretty as you."

Margaux nervousness tripled. She could not explain why. She had always been comfortable around Michael, and vice versa. It must have been the added pressure of romance surrounding the air. Just as that thought crossed Margaux's mind, she heard a few people gasp at the front of the room. She peered over the crowd and saw a boy kneeling on the ground underneath a white plastic arch used as a decoration for the theme: "An Evening in Ancient Rome." A girl stood above him, clutching her hands against her mouth. He took out a cheap, sparkling ring, slipped it over her finger, and she screamed with glee.

"Someone just got engaged?" Margaux's eyes widened. "What the hell?"

"I told you," Michael laughed, "expect the worst. That is high on the list of trashy things I've seen, but it doesn't top it."

"What tops it?"

"Probably that guy over there wearing a suit pattern with one-hundred pound notes and carrying a pimp cane."

Margaux laughed when she spotted the boy.

"On that note," Michael said, "did you want to get out of here?"

"Yeah," Margaux said, "I think I've seen enough and I'm burning up. What time is it anyways?"

"A little past ten. We can either go out to eat or go to a party. I'm not sure if you're the party type, but—"

"Oh, I am," Margaux said. "I want to go."

"Alright," he smiled. "You don't have to drink if you don't want to. I'll probably only have a cup or two."

"Me, too," Margaux said.

The group gathered into Kunal's car and drove a few streets over to the party. It was being held in a small single story home painted white with blue shutters. "Whose house is this?" Margaux asked.

"Some guy who graduated last year. His name's Matt. It's actually his grandmother's house, but his parents gave it to him when they sent her to a nursing home," Kunal said as he removed the key from the ignition.

"So, what," Margaux said, "are the toilets going to have bars on the wall to prop yourself up?"

Heather laughed. "That'll come in handy when I get pissed tonight."

Margaux had never been to a muggle party before. She did not know what to expect. Wizarding parties could get crazy. So far, the scene appeared tame.

"Wait," Michael said to Margaux. He got out of the car, jogged over to her side and opened the door for her.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Why didn't you do that for me?" Heather smacked Kunal lightly on the chest.

"Ouch, woman! You were out of the car before I got the chance. You were a little too excited for that Smirnoff Ice."

"Do you like Smirnoff Ice?" Heather turned to Margaux.

Margaux did not want to say she did not know what the drink was. She was used to the oddly named wizard drinks, but she simply nodded.

As they entered the house, the scene changed dramatically. People floated everywhere. The walls thumped from the loud speakers in the hallway. The rooms were well lit, despite the events Margaux had seen go down in Hollywood movies. Everyone, for the most part, was still clad in their dance gowns and suits, minus the jackets.

"Greg!" Michael called.

The thin boy bounced over to the group, already drunk off his ass on what looked like Jack Daniels in his plastic cup. "Hey, mate! How was the rest of the dance?"

"Great!" Michael said. "You would have known if you hadn't punched out Jack Weaver."

"Look," Greg pointed at nothing in particular, "Jack is a git and Claudia can do better! That's all I wanted to say!"

Kunal scoffed. "Well, ya said it loud and clear!"

"What happened when Weaver's goons chased you?"

Greg's eyelids kept rolling open and closed. "I ESCAPED," he shouted much louder than the rest of his sentence. "Those pricks can't outrun me! I scaled a goddamn fence and left those fat fuckers in the dust. Then I came to Matt's house to refuel AND HERE I AM!" He raised his cup.

Michael gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Good for you, mate. Be careful with the drinking tonight. We've got a meet next Wednesday."

So, Greg was on the swim team, Margaux realized. The boys bid their farewells to Greg and Heather led Margaux directly back to the fridge in the kitchen. She grabbed two individual bottles of the cloudy vodka, popped the tops off, and handed one to Margaux.

"Tastes like Sprite," she said as she gulped one down. By the time Margaux took one sip, Heather was already prying the top off another bottle.

"Where did your first bottle go?" Margaux asked.

Michael put his arm around Margaux's shoulder. "Heather is what we like to call 'borderline alcoholic.'"

Heather sneered at him. "You can't be fifteen and an alcoholic. That's a word for adults."

"As someone less than a year and half from adulthood," Kunal said, "I assure you, that word can apply to you."

"Shut up," she smiled as she pressed her lips against his.

The couple began to make out vigorously, so Michael led Margaux to the living room. "You want to just sit on the couch and people watch?" he asked.

"Sounds good," she said. She sat next to Michael on the small couch and sipped gingerly on her vodka. "This does not taste like Sprite."

"Is that what Heather told you?" he grinned. "That flavor is awful. The Screwdrivers are much better."

"That's the one I wanted to try, but she handed me this one. What are you drinking?"

"A Mike's Hard," he swirled the liquid around the bottle.

"That stuff it awful," she said. "It's so sweet."

"It is quite nasty," he agreed. "But I don't want to get drunk."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to spend time with you," he said with a hint of anxiety in his voice. "And I want to remember it."

Margaux's stomach clenched. She bit her lip into a smile. "So," she said. "Tell me what it's like going to school with these people."

"Well," Michael scooted in to whisper in her ear. "You see that guy over there? In the red baseball cap?"

Margaux nodded.

"He's a father of two."

He eyes grew wide.

"And that girl over there in the short purple dress?"

Again, a nod.

"She sucks off one of the substitute science teachers for fun."

"Oh my god," Margaux said. "Tell me more rumors."

"Nah," Michael said. "I wouldn't want you to think I'm a gossip."

"Come on!" Margaux pleaded. "I know you are perfectly lovely."

She saw Michael blush a little. "Alright," he agreed. "That guy in the white suit? He fingered a girl on the bus last year."

Margaux crinkled her nose but laughed.

"Last one," Michael said, "because I feel like a bad person. That girl in the jumpsuit? She's banned from the Nando's on Oak Street for stealing cutlery. They caught her walking out with twenty spoons gripped between her thighs and an equal number of forks in her purse. "

Margaux giggled. "Does it kind of make you wonder what they say about you?"

"Oh, I know what they say about me," Michael said.

"What's that?"

He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "See that guy in the red bowtie next to the charming girl? One time, during a swim meet, his Speedo fell off in the pool."

Margaux gasped as a smile flashed across her face. "No!"

"Yes," he said. "I had to climb out of the pool naked in front of the entire team, along with teams from seven other schools, parents, and even some students in the audience."

"That's awful!" she laughed. "Was it embarrassing?"

"Well, it happened like a month ago, so I'd say I'm still feeling the embarrassment," he grinned.

The pair talked the rest of the evening way. After what seemed like twenty minutes, but was actually two hours, Kunal announced he was taking Heather home and told Margaux and Michael to get in the car. They helped a very drunk Heather into the front seat. They dropped her off first, sitting in the car as Kunal helped her into the house and presumably into her bed.

"Won't her parents see her coming in drunk?" Margaux asked.

"Nah," Michael said. "She hasn't got a mom and her dad's great but he works the night shift."

"Oh," was all Margaux said. She did not remember that conversation coming up at the year five lunch table.

"Are one of you going to move to the front seat or am I going to chauffeur you around?" Kunal said as he beat a hand to the passenger seat.

"Take us on a drive, Jeeves!" Michael waved.

Kunal started the engine. "This is some racist bullshit," he muttered under his breath, which made his two passengers nearly choke on their own laughter.

Margaux gave him her address and he cruised over the empty midnight streets as a soft rock song played over the FM radio. "Right there!" Margaux pointed to her two-story brick house.

Kunal stopped the car. Michael again jogged over to her side to open the door. He walked her to her front porch.

"I had a lovely time," Margaux said.

"Gosh," Michael said, "I did, too."

"We'll have to hang out more this summer while I'm home."

"We will," Michael agreed.

"So…" Margaux said.

Michael gulped. "So…"

On a whim, she leaned in and pressed his lips to hers quickly. The sensation caused her stomach to flutter. She pulled away after a few seconds.

"Goodnight," Michael grinned.

"Goodnight," Margaux replied sweetly.

She opened her front door, turned off the porch lights, and locked the bolt.

"Well," Lenore said, turning around from her spot on the couch. "You're back a little early."

Margaux glanced at the clock. She was home fifteen minutes before curfew.

"Did you have fun?" Tim asked.

"Yes," Margaux said. "It was fun. Muggle dances are different than anything I've ever been to."

Tim stood up, kissed his daughter on the head, and said "Glad you had fun. I'm going to bed now. Night, sweetie."

Margaux followed him up the stairs, with Lenore at her heels. She entered her bedroom and Lenore closed the door behind them.

"Len, you're supposed to be on the other side of the door," Margaux said.

"Did you kiss?" Lenore grinned.

"That's none of your business."

"So, yes."

Margaux laughed. "Maybe. He's so sweet."

"Good," Lenore smiled. "I'll leave you alone, now. Goodnight."

And what a night it had been. That evening, Margaux had nothing but happy dreams.


	15. Chapter 15: Dinner with Augusta

**This is actually the first chapter I ever wrote, way back in July 2015! Hope you enjoy it.**

"I' _m going to call her and it's going to be alright._ "

Neville repeated the phrase over and over in his head until it took up permanent space. He looked down at the folded piece of paper in his hand and uncrumpled it. On it was a series of numbers written in light blue ink. Neville slowly walked up the limestone steps of his neighbor Vickie Dubinsky's brick row house. He knocked on the door and within seconds a thin woman clad in a red cardigan, yellow top, and checkered capris answered.

"Neville!" she exclaimed, tossing her manicured nails on her rouged cheeks. "What are you doing over here?"

"Hi Mrs. Dubinsky," he said. "Gran said I could use your phone?"

"Oh yes, of course dear!" she purred. "Right this way."

She led Neville to the end of the hall, pausing to stop by the mirror. "Tsk tsk. I swear these crows feet get deeper by the day," she said, adjusting her eye makeup. Mrs. Dubinsky had the body of the sixty-year-old woman she was, but tried as best she could not to act like it.

"Right here." She pointed to the black contraption on the table below the mirror.

"Thank you," Neville said. He did not move; he merely stared at the odd looking device with a circle of numbers.

"What's wrong, dear?"

Neville stayed silent. Mrs. Dubinsky was a muggle. She had no idea that Neville had never used a telephone.

Mrs. Dubinsky studied him. "Have you never seen a rotary phone before?"

Neville shook his head.

She picked the phone off the receiver. "I swear, you kids today and all your digital things. First clocks, now microwaves, and cellphones. Your generation has no idea what it's like to have to get up and manually change the channel on a TV!"

Neville had no clue what most of the words she was saying meant. He just replied with an "Oh."

"What's the number you're trying to call, dear?"

He handed her the piece of paper in his hand.

"This is a girl's handwriting," Mrs. Dubinsky exclaimed. "Very pretty penmanship! Does Neville have himself a girl he fancies?"

"No– I– she– we're just friends," he stammered out.

A sly look crept across Mrs. Dubinsky's face. "Whatever you say, dear."

As she twirled the circle on the rotary phone to dial the number, Neville could feel his stomach twirling right along with it. He was panicking.

" _I can barely talk to her in person, why should I be able to talk to her on the phone?_ "

"Here you go," Mrs. Dubinsky said, handing him the phone and then walking into the kitchen.

It rang.

" _Oh God, how do people answer the phone? Is there something you're supposed to say?_ "

And rang.

" _What if she doesn't answer?_ "

And rang.

" _What do I do?_ "

And then clicked over to voicemail.

"Please leave a message after the beep," the phone commanded.

"Uh, hi Lenore. This is Neville. Longbottom. I-I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but I'm trying to call you. Because you gave me your number. Um, well, I just wanted to know how you were doing. Call me back if you can– or want to. Thanks, bye."

Neville slammed the phone back on the receiver and shut his eyes.

" _Oh Merlin, what did I just say?_ "

"Hun, have you never spoken on a phone before?" Mrs. Dubinsky emerged from the doorway. Neville could detect her sarcasm, so he did not answer.

"Tell me about this girl," she asked, folding her arms.

"What do you want to know about her?"

"What's she like? Is she kind?"

Neville paused before saying, "Y-yes, she is very kind. And smart. And funny."

"And is she pretty?"

"Y-yes."

"Well, what does she look like?"

"Brown hair, um, nice face I guess, and um, very nice eyes."

Mrs. Dubinsky nodded, with a sly smirk.

"Anyways Mrs. Dubinsky, thank you for letting me use your phone," Neville said quickly, edging his way towards the front door. He tried to get out before Mrs. Dubinsky questioned him any more.

"Not a problem," she called after him. "If she tries to ring back, I'll come get you!"

Neville shut the door and stood still on the steps. " _If she calls back?_ " He had not even thought of the possibility. Worse yet, he thought of what Mrs. Dubinsky might say when she answered the phone. She was not exactly a subtle woman. All he could do was trudge back to his house and beg the gods for mercy.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Hello?"

Lenore breathed a sigh of relief. She hated leaving voicemails. Something about them was just so impersonal and outdated.

"Hi, this is Lenore Henry. Is this Mrs. Longbottom?"

"Oh no, hun. This is Neville's neighbor, Vickie Dubinsky. You can call me Vickie if you like."

"Oh alright," Lenore said, unsure as to why this lady was on the line. "Um, thank you, Vickie."

"I bet you are looking for Neville."

"I am. He called using this phone?"

"Yes, his grandmother told me she had forgotten to pay the phone bill the past few months, so she asked if Neville could come over and use mine."

"That sounds about right."

"I can go get Neville for you, dear. He is probably in his house. I'll be right back," Mrs. Dubinsky said, lowering the phone. Before it touched the table, she whipped it back up to her ear.

"And please go easy on him. Poor kid is just a nervous as can be to talk to you."

Lenore bit her lip as Mrs. Dubinsky's front door slammed shut.

" _No pressure though, right?_ " she thought to herself.

Lenore knew Neville had a huge crush on her. She just was not sure how she wanted to react to this. She really did fancy him, she just did not want to rush into a relationship, especially as a sixteen year old. Her sixth year was coming up, which meant NEWTS, selecting a career field, and endless studying the next two years. And of course, the future was uncertain. It had been confirmed the that Dark Lord Voldemort had returned, so nobody could be sure there would ever be a bright future. Hogwarts would not be the same place she left only a month ago.

"I left the phone on the table for you!"

Lenore snapped out of her thoughts as she heard Mrs. Dubinsky shout in the background and a door creak open. There was some slight fumbling with the phone, she guessed Neville trying to figure out which end to speak into.

" _These Pureblood wizards really make me wonder–_ "

"H-hi Lenore."

"Hi Neville!" she with pep in her voice.

"H-how are you?"

"I'm very good. How about yourself?"

"I'm great."

A pause followed. Lenore figured she should speak up. "I'm sorry I couldn't answer the phone when you called, I was at work."

"You work?" Neville asked. "Where at?"

"In the mailroom of a muggle law office. I basically spend five hours a day putting stamps on envelopes."

"That doesn't sound fun."

"Meh. They pay me six pounds an hour."

"Is that good?"

"It's a little bit more than one galleon."

"That is good."

Lenore smiled. She liked the tone of Neville's voice when he spoke to her. Not patronizing like a lot of guys, but truly interested in what she had to say.

"How's your summer been? Are you working?" she asked.

"Oh… no. I'm not working. I-I don't know if a lot of wizards do that. It sounds great though. I've just been helping Gran around the house to be completely honest."

"That's working," Lenore pointed out. "And probably better. I'm helping snooty lawyers get rich off other people's misery. You are actually doing something good."

"Tell me how you really feel," Neville grinned.

Lenore grimaced. "Sorry. Oh, also, Nev, if you call me again, don't leave a message."

"O-okay," he stammered, "I-I just d-did b-because the machine t-told me to."

"No, you're fine!" she said. "The first time you call, leave a message. You did it perfectly. If you ever call me on a different number, leave a message. I'm just glad I got to the answering machine before my parents."

"W-why?"

"They wouldn't like a boy calling me," she smiled, "no matter how innocent it may be."

"W-why?"

"They're weird about dating. I'm not technically allowed to date."

"You're... not allowed?"

"Nope," she said. "They said no until I'm eighteen. But they don't know what I do at school."

Neville was still confused. "You can't date until eighteen? What?"

"My parents are very strict," she whispered. "Very, very strict. Especially on me. They're a bit looser on Margaux. She was allowed to go to a muggle dance with a boy. I would be eaten alive if I even suggested that."

"Why would they let Margaux and not you?"

"Because it would 'hurt her feelings' if they said no, or some bullshit like that. They're tougher on me because they think I can handle it. I'm actually a little mad at them right now, if you can't tell."

"Why?"

Neville hear her shaking her head and tsk-ing. "It's a long story. They like to call me lazy. Even though I have a job working 30 hours a week. And Margaux doesn't. It's fine. Really, I'm fine."

"You're not lazy," he said. "And you definitely don't sound 'fine' with it."

She giggled. "I'm just annoyed right now. I'll get over it within an hour. My mom just called me right after I got off work to yell at me."

"What did you do?"

She cringed. "I kind of forgot to vacuum the house. But Margaux sits at home all day and does nothing! She's out right now, though, with some muggle friends."

"Vacuum?"

Lenore paused. "It's a muggle machine that sucks dirt off the carpet."

"Sucks?"

She laughed "Yeah, it's hard to explain. But it's not important. I know it's my fault. I forgot. But... never mind. What else have you been doing this summer, besides helping your grandma?

"Oh, um, other than that, I haven't done much. I'm going to the lake with Seamus and Dean next week. T-then Gran and I are going to the beach with some relatives the following week."

"That'll be fun!"

"I think so. Are you going anywhere?"

"Yeah! We always go on vacation. Normally we go somewhere pretty cool, like drive around Europe, but this year one of my cousins is getting married... I'm not entire sure where. It's in a lighthouse south of Glasglow. So we're spending the week there with the family."

"That'll be nice!" he said. "Where do your cousins live?"

"In Edgeware, north London."

"That's sort of near me," he said.

"Really? Where do you live?"

"I mean... okay, not super close, but... I live in Ealing. West London."

Lenore gasped. "You don't even live far from me! Sort of. I didn't know you lived in London. A lot of purebloods do, don't they?"

"Y-yeah," he said. "Especially west and central London. I-I guess because the houses. They get passed down every generation."

"That's interesing," she said. "My pureblood grandpa didn't have a family house. Or maybe they did, I don't know. It couldn't have been very nice."

"I'm sure it was lovely."

She giggled. "You've never met a Henry, have you? Ask your grandmother. She'll know how irresponsible the Henrys are."

"I'm sure they were lovely, too."

"Mmm."

In the break of silence, Lenore heard someone shouting in the background.

" _Invite her over here for dinner!_ "

"Hang on just a second," Neville said, with stress in his voice. He set the phone down.

" _What?_ "

" _Invite her to dinner here! I'll cook! You can bring Augusta and she can meet everyone!"_

" _Mrs. Dubinsky, I don't think-"_

" _No, no! She'll love seeing you!"_

" _I'm not sure-"_

 _"Neville, you listen to me: any girl would be lucky to enjoy my fine home cooking with a sweet boy like yourself._ "

There was a pause before Neville picked up the phone. Lenore's stomach flipped. That whole encounter was so cute.

"I'm so sorry. What were we talking about?"

Lenore said slowly, "I believe you were inviting me to dinner at Vickie's."

She could almost feel Neville's embarrassment through the phone.

"You heard that?"

"Neville, if you wanted a private conversation, you should have put your hand over the end of the phone you talk into."

"That makes sense," he admitted.

"So when's dinner?" she asked playfully. "I work until two p.m. most days and I have weekends off."

"Let me ask Mrs. Nosey."

Neville placed his hand over the phone, just like Lenore said. She could not hear a thing.

"How's five p.m. on Friday?"

"I'll have to ask my parents, but as long as I'm home by like eight, they should be fine with it."

"Why eight?"

"They don't like me out past dark, ever since You Know Who returned."

Neville nodded, remembering the day, the moment, he saw Voldemort. "Okay, that's fine. You can come a little earlier if you want. And you're safe here. I live in a muggle neighborhood."

"Alright," she smiled, "What should I wear? Should I dress up?"

"If you want."

"Okay, but Neville you have to wear a suit or something nice. I mean, not a suit jacket, but... I don't want to be overdressed. Please?"

"I'll dress up," he laughed. "Buttons down and nice slacks."

"Thank you. Hey, Nev, I have to go. I'm supposed to meet my sister in a few minutes. But I'll be there around five on Friday. What's your address?"

"Six-eleven Bishop Road, Ealing, London. Oh wait, Mrs. Dubinsky's address is six-thirteen."

"Six-thirteen Bishop Road, Ealing?"

"Yes."

"Thanks. I'll talk to you later, Neville."

"Bye Lenore. It was nice talking to you."

"You, too. Bye."

Lenore pressed the end call button on her phone, but her smile seemed endless.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Neville, stop pacing. You're giving me anxiety."

Augusta Longbottom fished into her purse for two aspirin, but came up short.

"You need some pain relievers, Gusta?"

"That would be wonderful, Vickie. I feel a migraine coming on."

Neville rolled his eyes at their dramatic antics. However, he was used to it at this point and quickly forgot. His mind was spinning. He was worried about everything— the food, his appearance, how his grandmother and her best friend would behave, what he would say.

"Neville, you aren't going to look your best if you're sweating. Sit down and relax," Augusta motioned towards an empty chair.

He reluctantly rested in the antiquated dining room, but as soon as he sat, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" he jumped and sprinted towards the door. He paused, collected himself, and twisted the knob.

"Hi Neville!"

" _God, she is so beautiful._ "

Everything about her was beautiful, from her pink lips, to her green eyes, and her gently curled hair. She stood on the stoop, waiting for Neville to do something.

But he did not move.

Lenore smiled. "Can I come in?"

Neville blinked a few times and seemed to snap out of it.

"Yes! Of course. I'm so sorry."

Lenore stepped onto the wood floors of the long hallway. She was wearing a black button-down shirt, black wedge high heels, and a dark green printed skirt that showed off her cinched waist.

"You must be Lenore!" came a pair of high-pitched voices from about twenty feet ahead.

Two older woman hurried towards her, arms outstretched and heels clacking on the hall floor. They each hugged and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Darling, aren't you just the cutest!" Augusta said.

Neville furrowed his eyebrows. He had never heard this grandmother this peppy before. When she talked to strangers, she took on a completely different personality than her usual nagging self.

"You look a bit like me when I was young!" Vickie cooed. "Before my first husband."

"Thank you," Lenore smiled. "I hope I can be as pretty as you two one day!"

Impressed with her schmoozing, Vickie led her into the living room. "Have a seat right there! Dinner will be in about an hour, so I figure we could all get to know each other!"

Augusta and Vickie took a seat on the red couch, while Lenore and Neville each sat in a cushy armchair.

"This is a lovely room," Lenore commented as she glanced around at the large bay window, homey wallpaper, and pale pink carpet.

"Why thank you!" Vickie gushed. "I consider myself a fan of antiques. I get a lot my my ideas from Lifetime."

"I love that channel!" Lenore said, while Augusta and Neville sat in silence.

"Those Property Brothers… Ooo, God blessed the world when he made them."

The group sat and talked for a while, changing the subject away from attractive reality stars to a variety of subjects, mostly interrogating Lenore. Neville rarely took his eyes off her.

A loud hissing noise came from the kitchen.

"Gusta, what is that?"

"I don't know, Vickie. Do you have water boiling?"

"THE POTATOES!" Mrs. Dubinsky gasped.

Augusta and Vickie ran for the kitchen, leaving Lenore and Neville alone.

"They are quite the pair, aren't they?" Lenore said after a moment.

Neville smiled. "You haven't seen the half of it."

"Neville!" Lenore exclaimed. "Your teeth!"

She got up and sat on the coffee table in front of him. "They are so straight!"

Neville felt his face get warm. "Yeah, I finally went to a wizard dentist and had them fixed."

"Oh my gosh," she gasped. "Nev, they look so good!"

"Thanks," he said as his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. He loved when she said "Nev". She was the only one who ever called him by a nickname. It made him feel like there was something special between them.

She was still staring intently at his teeth. "Did it hurt?"

"A little," he said.

" _A lot_ ," he thought.

"Wow. You are so lucky you never had to wear braces."

"I remember you wore them. Was it first and second year?"

"And part of third. Oh gosh, don't remind me!" she winced.

"I remember the unibrow, too."

"NEVILLE!" she screeched. It rapidly turned into laughter from the both of them.

"Don't even mention me before fourth year. It was tragic."

"You're still the same person inside," he said.

"I don't think so."

Neville thought for a moment. "Actually, you might be nicer."

Lenore raised her eyebrows. "Well, I hope I am, at least. I was an angsty twelve to fifteen year old."

"Weren't we all?"

"I don't remember you being angsty. I remember you being a little tattletale as a first year."

Neville's face returned to the shade of red it was before. "I was. Until I realized I honestly don't care what other people do."

Lenore softly smiled at him. He did not notice how close she was to him until this moment. "I don't know if you could be any more red right now," she said.

Neville placed his hands on his cheeks in an attempt to hide his face. "I-I didn't realize you could see it."

"I can. Very clearly," she laughed.

"DINNER IS READY!" Mrs. Dubinsky shouted.

Lenore leaned away and Neville showed her to the dining room.

"So," Augusta said, as she served herself a plate of meatloaf, "tell me about your parents. Are you part of the famous Henry family?"

"Oh," Lenore said surprised, "I'm not sure if we're famous."

"I was friends at school with a Hazel Henry," Augusta said. "Any relation?"

Lenore swallowed a bite of her mashed potatoes. "That's my grandpa's sister. She's a Ross now."

"Wonderful!" Augusta clapped her hands together. "She and Patrick were a beautiful couple."

Lenore cringed. "Actually, she ended up marrying his brother, Desmond."

Augusta searched her brain. "I recall liking Desmond better anyways. Tell me about your parents."

"My dad is Tim Henry. He married a…." she glanced at Mrs. Dubinsky.

"Not one of the families I would know?" Augusta finished, alleviating her from saying the word "muggle."

"No," Lenore said slowly. "My mother isn't a part of that world. My dad is a professor at a university, so he's not really part of that world much anymore either. My mom, Clair, is a Yank, born over there to British parents. She moved to London as an adult, met my dad, then they moved back to the States, had me and my sister, and returned to London when it was about time for our secondary education."

"I was going to ask where your accent was from!" Vickie said. "You don't sound like you're from London, but you also don't sound American. You sound like a Brit trying to do an American accent."

Lenore smiled. "My dad obviously has the thick northern London accent. My mom's family is from the South, near Exeter, but she's only got it on certain words or phrases. I think going to school in America ruined any chance of me ever having an accent like my dad or grandparents."

"You said you have a sister?" Vickie asked.

"Yes, ma'am. She's a little more than a year younger than me."

"Oh wow, that close in age? You must practically be twins."

"We look and act hardly anything alike. But we get along very well."

"Which Henry is your grandpa?" Augusta asked.

"Glen. He's smack in the middle."

"What year was he born?"

"Umm, shoot... 1900, I thiiiink. Somewhere around there.

Augusta nodded. "Okay, I didn't go to school with him. Much too old. But Neville, your uncle might've. Algie. Who did he marry?"

"Naomi Levinstein," Lenore replied.

Augusta searched her brain. "Any relation to Eliezer Levinstein?"

"Her youngest brother!"

"Yes!" Augusta clapped. "I know him! He's still a few years older than me, but I ran into him at parties when I was in my 20s. Sweet little thing. God, I went to his wedding! His wife was a family friend. Neville! You remember the Goreliks!"

Neville raised his eyebrows. He had no idea who she was talking about. Augusta waved her hand, a sign she was done with him and no longer needed his input. "Whatever. I'm sure Lenore doesn't know these people either. Before her time. Anyway, how long have your parents been married?"

Lenore patted her mouth with a napkin. "They were decently old when they got married, compared to most families I go to school with. They've been married nearly twenty years. They were both thirty-one and had me at thirty-five."

"I was even older than that when I had Frank!" Augusta announced. "I was nearing forty. But my son and his wife had Neville at twenty-one. It's a good thing they had him that early, but I always said that was too young."

Vickie nodded sympathetically as Neville stared down into his food. He hated when his grandmother talked bad about his parents, especially since they could not be here to defend themselves. He flipped his fork through the potatoes, turning them over mindlessly.

"How did you meet your husband?" Lenore asked.

Augusta smiled, deep in reminisce. "I met Thaddeus when I was thirty. In those days, I was a spinster. But I didn't ever feel like getting married. I wanted to live my life."

"Amen," Vickie interrupted. "I should have done the same."

"Yes, I was taking the Knight Bus home from my job working in a souvenir shop on the rocky shores near Plymouth. It was a bumpy ride that evening. I had just bought a brand new white wicker chair. This was a lovely chair. It's the one sitting in my bedroom corner," she directed to Vickie, who nodded vigorously. "I dragged this chair into the Knight Bus, took it straight to the back, and sat down in it. This chair slipped all over the place on the bus, until I bolted it to the floor. A dashing older man tapped on my shoulder from behind and asked me if I could fasten his chair to the floor as well. Of course I agreed. He brought his chair up next to mine and we chatted the entire ride back to London. We were married the next summer."

"That's beautiful!" Lenore said. "You didn't date for very long, how did you know he was the one?"

"The eyes are all it takes," Augusta said. "Now, it took me a while to have children. We did feel like that was something to wait for. We were together nearly nine years before I had Frank."

"How nice! I agree about the waiting to have kids idea," Lenore gushed again. "Do you have kids, Vickie?"

"Yes, love! I've got three grown sons. One with the first husband and two with the next one. None with the last one, to my relief."

Lenore giggled. "I bet they're lovely boys."

"I tried to raise them right," Vickie said proudly. "They are great so far. No illegitmate babies or time in prison."

"I call that a success," Lenore laughed.

Vickie smiled wickedly. "Augusta, I'd say you're raising Neville here to be a lovely boy, too."

Neville's eyes shot up from his plate and towards his grandmother.

Augusta laughed. "If you consider leaving his dirty underpants all over the bathroom floor 'lovely,' then yes, he is an absolute joy."

Neville did not reply. He merely looked down again and put his full focus into slicing the meatloaf Mrs. Dubinsky had served. He felt his face grow hot when he remembered Lenore sat across the table from him.

"Oh, Gusta!" Vickie played. "He's a good boy."

"Yes," his grandmother agreed, "for the most part."

As Vickie and Augusta launched into a new conversation regarding their gardens, Neville felt a small tap on his foot under the table. At first, he thought nothing of it, but then he felt it again, this time a little harder. He glanced up to Lenore and saw her give him the softest reassuring smile. His stomach clenched. He smiled nervously back at her, until his grandmother caught her attention with a question and she looked away.

"So, you're a Slytherin?" Augusta asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What does that mean?" Vickie questioned.

"There are four schools set up at our boarding school," Lenore said, quickly covering Augusta's transgression. "When you enter the school, you take a… personality test and that determines which school you are in. I'm in Slytherin, which is for ambitious and clever people. The members are Slytherins tend to all be very posh, very conservative, old money, you know the sort."

Vickie nodded, "Oh yes."

"I'm not any of those things, so it's a little weird fitting in. Neville and I believe Augusta are in Gryffindor. I would describe Gryffindors as brave, daring people, sometimes with a temper. My sister is a Gryffindor. Neville said your family has been Gryffindor for generations?"

"Yes!" Augusta said. "Every single one."

"All my family has been Ravenclaw," Lenore said. "That's the house for smart and creative people. Until I came along and ruined the streak."

"What would you say makes you a Slytherin?" Vickie asked. "Are you quite ambitious?"

"I would say so. When I know what I want and I go after it. I'm not nearly as brave as Augusta and Neville, though. I like to sit back and stay out of trouble."

"I can tell you're one of the nicer Slytherins," Augusta commented. "You seem like a friendly girl."

"Thank you," she smiled brightly. "If Vickie went to school with you, what house do you think she would be in?"

"Oh, Gryffindor, for sure," Augusta said to her best friend. "I saw you kick Mike out of the house. Throwing his clothes out the top floor window? That's a Gryffindor move."

"A Slytherin would brood in silence for a few hours while he's gone, then calmly pack his bags, leave them on the front porch, and change all the locks," Lenore said.

Augusta laughed. "You are right."

"Neville," Vickie tipped her glass towards him after she took a sip, "I can't see you throwing clothes out the window."

Before Neville could open his mouth, Augusta spoke up. "Neville is slowly starting to show his Gryffindor qualities. I wondered for nearly six years now where the heck they were. He's a timid boy. But one day, he'll blossom like his father."

Neville could feel the annoyance at his grandmother build up. She could not go a day without comparing him to his dad. He always wanted to say something to her, but he could never find the words. All he could so was look away. His eyes caught Lenore's. She bit her lip understandingly, which made him smile a little in appreciation.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Do you want to get out of here for a minute?" Neville asked after dinner. Augusta and Vickie were busy washing dishes. Soon they would sit at the table again to do the evening crossword puzzle together.

"Please," Lenore smiled. "Show me your house."

Neville and Lenore quietly tiptoed to the front hall and made a break for freedom. The day was unusually cloudy for July. She followed Neville to the right and watched him open his front door by whispering into the lock. He opened the door to reveal a house exactly like Mrs. Dubinsky's, but considerably darker. The other house was painted in rich, bright colors of all shades, but every room Lenore could see so far was either dark red or drab grey. Thick velvet curtains covered the few windows in the house. Nonetheless, it was still a lovely home. Crown molding, large bay windows in the front and back, beautiful wood floors, and a regal staircase. Lenore could not help but notice how large it was. Her own home was a fair size, but the ground floor of Neville's house alone was probably the same size as her entire home.

"Do you wear shoes in your house?" Lenore asked, looking down at Neville's feet.

"Oh, uh, no. I just didn't want to take them off."

"Do you mind if I take mine off? My feet are killing me."

"Go ahead," he answered.

Lenore unbuckled her heels from her ankles. It was not that her feet hurt so much as her legs were sore from running mail around her office.

"Alright," she said in bare feet, "give me a tour."

Neville walked her around the bottom floor of his house. It featured the usual housing features— a living room, a dining room, a bathroom, the kitchen with a small breakfast area. All were decorated in dark colors and sturdy wood furniture.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" he asked. He immediately regretted his poor choice of words, but Lenore did not seem to notice.

"Of course."

They headed up the narrow staircase and opened pointed into a bedroom in the back of the house. "This is Gran's room."

He started to move on, but Lenore said, "Does your grandmother always speak to you like she did at dinner?"

Neville thought a moment. "Like what?"

"Like… passive aggressively?"

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"Like, instead of telling you to put away your dirty laundry, does she enjoy calling you out in a fake-joking way in front of other people?"

Neville nodded slowly.

"My grandma, too," Lenore said. "And my mom. And my sister. They've all got a talent for passive aggressive comments."

"Not you?" he mused.

"No," she laughed, "if someone is doing something I don't like, I'll just scream. If your dirty laundry was bothering me, I'd yell until you immediately came and did something about it."

"That's not how it happens in this household," he grinned. His voice grew quieter, "Besides, she leaves her laundry around all the time and I just kick it out of the way."

"That is the most rational approach," she smiled.

He showcased three other bedrooms and a bathroom before he led her to a room on the right of the staircase.

"And this is my room," he gestured.

Lenore slowly walked inside. His room was the only one painted in a bright color— if you could consider light creme a bright color. The room featured a book case, dresser, desk, queen sized bed, and a large bay window matching the one in the living room below. However, the curtains were pulled back and not quite so ornate. All his furniture was made of the same heavy wood as the rest of the house.

Lenore picked up a photo frame on his desk. Neville stood clutching one of the bed posts behind her.

"Are these your parents?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

The photo was black and white, but lost no definition. It moved like wizard photographs do, featuring two young people dancing at their wedding. The woman had cropped dark brown hair pinned with an elegant transparent veil. Her dress was long and white with lace sleeves. The man wore a dark suit and a bowtie. He was starting to lose his hair, but was still handsome nonetheless. Both of their eyes were bright, but not as bright as their smiles. Lenore was not sure if she had ever seen two people look at each other the way Neville's parents did.

"They are so beautiful," she breathed.

Neville bit his bottom lip wordlessly. Lenore turned around to look him in the eye. "You look like them, you know. Like a mix of both of them."

"Gran says I look more like my dad," he said quieter than Lenore had ever heard him. It reminded her of Neville as a first-year student. He was considerably more shy back then. He was still shy, just not as much around her.

"You look like your mum, too. In the eyes."

Lenore could tell Neville did not know what to say, so she placed the photo gently back down on his desk and walked over to the window seat.

"Neville, you look taller," she said, taking a seat. "And I think thinner."

Neville sat on the edge of his bed, facing Lenore. "I could be. I've been growing like crazy."

She raised her eyebrows. "I can't believe it's only been a month since I saw you. It feels like forever."

"You look different, too," he said. "I-I'm just not sure how."

Lenore shrugged. "I haven't really had an appetite the last few months. Maybe that's it."

"Are you not eating?" he asked with concern.

"No, no. I am," she hesitated, looking down at her hands. "It's just… it's hard for me to eat when I'm sad."

Neville did not say anything for a while. He was quite taken aback. She seemed her usual self to him, happy and playful. Lenore looked up to see his shocked face.

"I shouldn't have said that," she laughed nervously. "Shit, why did I say that?"

"Why are you sad?" he finally asked, his heart pounding loudly in his chest.

"… A few reasons."

She intertwined her fingers and broke them apart over and over. Lenore hated sharing her feelings. She would much rather figure things out herself than have everyone knowing her business, telling her what to do. Worst of all, she could not stand when people pitied her.

"Neville, you have to promise not to tell anybody. It's not bad," she said, "I-I just like to keep things to myself. It's easier on me."

"I promise, Lenore. And you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No," she said quickly. "That's not what I meant. Oh God…"

She pressed her hands across her face with a groan. She took a deep breath and spoke. "One of my first friends I made in the UK passed away in March. You remember that party we went to, with the Seven Minutes game? It was three days after that. I-I went to public school, grade five, with Raquel. She was…"

Lenore draw a sharp breath. "Was…" she repeated.

Her lip began to quaver. "It feels so weird to talk about her in past tense."

Neville stayed silent, so she continued. "She was a muggle and my neighbor, so we still talked pretty often, especially in the summer. I can see her house from my bedroom window. That's what makes being home so hard. I… I can't hide from it."

Neville nodded. He desperately wanted her voice to stop quivering, but there was nothing he could do.

"Nobody knew what was coming. That was the worst part."

She felt her body shaking, especially her hands.

"Nobody knew how she felt. I didn't know."

Lenore's voice cracked violently.

"She took too many pills. A whole… a whole bottle. Her mum—"

She had to stop.

"Neville, I can't talk about this yet."

Lenore could feel tears forming, so she closed her eyes. Slowly, with all the courage in his body, Neville stood and sat next to her on the window seat. He cautiously took her hand from her lap and held tight. After a moment, she let go to wipe tears from both her cheeks. Instead of grabbing his hand again, she laid her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her against his crisp dress shirt.

He felt numb, and yet, so alive. His heart beat so loudly, he thought Lenore could hear it. He blood rushed through his ears. Every so often, her body convulsed under his arm. He could not believe one of her friends passed away nearly four months ago and he knew nothing about it. Three days after that dreadful Seven Minutes in Heaven game... he thought back to March. Nothing in her demeanor seemed to change, although he did see less of her for a couple weeks. In an instant, his brain flashed to that evening in the Great Hall, where she mentioned Raquel's name. He remembered how her voice seemed to catch in her throat and her eyes grew tired for a split second. That was mere days after her friend passed.

His fingers pressed her arm lightly. He could feel her warm breath on his shirt. He glanced down to her eyes, which were sealed shut. Her eyebrows were furrowed in worry. He desperately wanted her to be happy again, to never feel pain.

"I'm sorry," she said after a while.

Neville loosened his hold as she sat up. Lenore stood and walked towards a mirror on the opposite wall above the dresser. Her eyes were puffy and red, but her makeup was still mostly in place.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," Neville said firmly.

She wiped below her eyes with her ring fingers, removing a small bit of eyeliner that had run. "I didn't exactly intend to come here and start crying all over you. Merlin, this is embarrassing."

Neville walked over to her. He said, just as steady as before, "Lenore, you can tell me anything you want. I'm not going to judge you or anything like that. I keep things to myself, too. I understand how you feel."

He took a deep breath. "It's like you have a million things to say and nobody to say them to."

She looked up at him.

"Say them to me," he whispered.

She sniffled. "Thanks, Nev."

It hurt him to see her like this. Neville had only seen her cry one other time. Sometimes, he was not even sure that she could cry. Lenore was a strong girl. She had to be. She was a Slytherin.

"Do you have a tissue?"

"Yeah," Neville said, snapping out of his trance.

He went to the bathroom down the hall and returned with a handful of tissues.

"Thanks," she smiled, as he shoved five tissues into her outstretched hands. She blotted at her face and blew her nose.

"We should be getting back, don't you think?" she asked, throwing her tissues into the garbage can.

He nodded. Lenore led him out of the room before halting at the staircase.

"Neville?" she turned around.

He stopped abruptly.

"Thank you."

She hugged him. He could not believe it. He stood frozen, not knowing what to do. He could feel her hands pressed lightly into his back and her cheek resting on his chest.

"W-why are you thanking me?" he stammered as he wrapped his arms around her.

She stayed silent, soaking up the rising and falling of his ribcage. She noticed how fast he was breathing. She knew she was making him nervous. After a few seconds, she let go.

"For understanding."

Neville stared into her radiant green eyes. They seemed to hold the universe and all the stars and even the sun. When he looked into her eyes, he knew everything would be okay. Neville wanted to kiss her so badly. She was so beautiful he could hardly stand it. He wanted to kiss away her pain, his pain. But he didn't. He simply nodded. And he immediately felt stupid.

Lenore smiled and continued down the stairs. Neville blindly followed her back into Mrs. Dubinsky's house, still thinking about that hug.


	16. Chapter 16: Margaux Babysits Dean

Dean laid on his bed, tossing a ball into the air and catching it in regular intervals. His mind flashed blank. He focused his entire energy on throwing the ball up down. The repetitive motion made him feel like a machine, rather than a human being. Finally, he stopped moving and allowed the ball to fall onto his comforter. He shut his eyes.

"Dean—"

His mother appeared in his doorway. She was a beautiful woman, with blonde hair, kind eyes and well-worn smile lines. This evening, she was clothed in a shimmering black cocktail gown and a pink faux fur coat wrapped across her shoulders. When she caught Dean possibly sleeping, she lost her train of thought.

"What are you doing laying in bed?" she demanded. "I told you to clean up the kitchen before—"

"Mum!" Dean interrupted. "It's clean! I did it earlier."

She narrowed her eyes. "Alright, but if I go down there and it's dirty…"

"It won't be. Unless Bella messed it up again."

Bella was Dean's youngest sister, who had recently taken a liking to creating "science projects". Except, her experiments were less scientific and more the simple desire to mix weird foods she found in the cabinet together.

"That reminds me," his mother said, "don't let Bella do any experiments while we're gone. I don't want the babysitter to have to clean up after her."

Dean sat up in bed. "BABYSITTER?"

Dean's stepfather emerged from the hallway and wrapped his arms around his wife's waist. "You are looking positively radiant tonight, Mrs. McClain," he said.

She smiled brightly. "You don't look half bad yourself, Mr. McClain."

Dean hated when they called each other that. He felt left out, being the only Thomas in the family. Then again, he was also the only black one the family, so that could be another reason. His stepfather was a lovely man. He married Dean's mother when Dean was only five years old and he raised Dean like his own son. Dean generally called him "dad" as well.

Mark McClain kissed his wife's neck. "Shea, no one will ever believe you've had five children."

"Excuse me?" Dean waved his arms. "I'm still here. AND A BABYSITTER? Mum, I'll be seventeen in a few months."

"The sitter isn't for you, Dean, it's for your sisters. I figured you would be out tonight."

Dean noticed his mother's subtle dig at his lack of social life this evening. True, he did not have any plans, but that did not mean he could not make some real fast. Maybe the neighbor boy, Charlie, would let him come over and play video games. Except Charlie was a weirdo. So, maybe he would just stay home and lock himself in his room. His mother either invited Mrs. McCormick or Edna over to watch the girls. Both of them were about eight-hundred years old and liked to watch television more than play with his sisters. Mrs. McCormick, who insisted she be called by that formal name, tried to teach Dean how to knit one time, but he ended up completely destroying the baby blanket she had been sewing for Bella at the time. Edna, on the other hand, fell asleep every night she babysat and left Dean to watch his sisters. Each time she came over, Dean complained to his mum, but she never believed him.

"Oh, Dean," his stepfather said, "since you're a loser with no friends tonight, I left you some money for pizza— or cocaine, it's whichever you choose— on the dining room table."

Dean laughed. "I can't get much cocaine with the twenty pounds you left."

Mr. McClain's eyes twinkled. "Try fifteen pounds. Really, is cocaine that expensive these days? Back in the early 80s, when I was at uni—"

Dean's mother elbowed her husband in the ribcage.

"—I didn't even know what cocaine was, but I think I read about it one night in the library during a short study break," he finished.

Even Mrs. McClain smiled. "Dean, we'll be back probably after midnight. Make sure the sitter knows your sisters have to be in bed before nine p.m. I'm letting them stay up late tonight, but no later than nine."

The doorbell rang echoed from downstairs. Mitzy, the family terrier, started barking wildly and Dean could hear his sisters jumping around wildly.

"MUM! MUM! MUM! THE SITTER IS HERE!" they all announced.

"Oh good!" Mrs. McClain said. "She's right on time."

"Wow, Edna is on time," Mr. McClain said, "that's a first."

"Oh honey," she called as she descended the stairs, "I didn't get Edna. Or Mrs. McCormick. You two come down and meet the new girl."

Dean and his dad shared a look of dread. "If I have to meet her, you do, too," his dad said.

"I'm not the one paying her," Dean pointed out.

Mr. McClain motioned for Dean to follow him down the stairs. The boy could hear his mother coo over the new babysitter, as his sisters yelled for attention. He rounded the corner landing and stopped in his tracks. Downstairs stood a short blonde girl. She turned her face, with her light green eyes and pretty pink lips, up toward the landing.

"DEAN?" she exclaimed.

"MARGAUX?" he replied.

His heart beat so rapidly that it hurt to swallow. He hurried down to the foyer as his mother glanced between the pair. "You two know each other?" she asked, surprised.

"We go to school together," Dean offered.

"We're even in the same house," Margaux said.

"Oh, wow," Mrs. McClain said. "This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

"No, ma'am," Margaux said quickly. Dean nodded in agreement.

"Okay…" she continued to shift her eyes from one to the other. She seemed to be examining Dean and Margaux's body language.

"Small world, isn't it?" Mr. McClain said to break the tension. He shook Margaux's hand. She smiled warmly.

"I had no idea your mother had magical children," Mrs. McClain said, snapping out of her detective mode. "I'm sure she told you we're in the same book club."

"I had no idea we all knew each other," Margaux said, "I knew Dean lived in this town, but woah. It really is a small world."

Mrs. McClain threw her hands together in excitement. "This will give Clair and I something to discuss! I don't much get to talk to other mothers with children like Dean. How is your sister doing? Is that right? One older sister?"

"Yes! Lenore is good. I think she's out with friends tonight."

"I think that's what Dean might do tonight, as well," she motioned over to him.

Dean still could not believe Margaux Henry was standing in his house. Margaux Henry was in his house and he was wearing sweatpants and a Batman t-shirt. He immediately felt extremely self conscious. He crossed his arms to shield his body. Margaux looked absolutely beautiful and Dean looked like he just rolled out of bed (which he had, technically).

Mrs. McClain continued. "Your mother said you were the one who loved children."

"Oh yes!" Margaux said. "I adore them."

"Good! Let me introduce you to the girls!" She pointed to the tallest daughter, who wore pink glasses and sat on the bottom of the stairs. "This is Camila. She's ten." Camila waved and Margaux waved back.

"This is Ellie," she pointed to the only blonde of the group. "She's eight."

"Hi!" Ellie said. "Are you going to play with us?"

"I sure am," Margaux smiled.

"Vivi is over there," Mrs. McClain directed to the girl with a cute gap-toothed smile who was clinging to Margaux's right leg. "She's six. And Bella is at your left. She's five." Bella looked up from her thick bangs to stare at Margaux.

"Nice to meet you all," Margaux said. "We're going to have fun! Does anybody have any allergies or anything I need to know?"

"Yes! Dear, can you show her the ropes?" Mrs. McClain said to her husband.

Mr. McClain gave Margaux a quick tour of the house and instructions for the night, including bedtime routines, emergency numbers, and what to do for dinner. Mrs. McClain pulled Dean aside.

"This isn't going to be a problem is it?" she said cooly.

"No!" he said. He could feel his cheeks burning.

"Good," she said. "I don't expect it will. Or you will get the ass whooping of your lifetime."

"Mum," he said. "I promise you, it'll be fine. Margaux isn't like that. She's probably the most responsible girl I know. She'll do a great job and I'll stay in my room."

"Okay, I trust you," she said. "Make sure she feels comfortable and help her if she needs help. Or next time, you'll be the one babysitting."

"Honey!" Mark called from the kitchen. "Did you realize it's 5:50?"

"Oh shoot!" Shea said, stomping her foot. "Mark! Get in the car! We've got to start driving if we're going to get there on time."

Mark and Shea McClain kissed their daughters goodbye and the door shut behind them with a loud thud, leaving Margaux and Dean alone in the foyer. After a mere second of silence, the girls all began yelling for Margaux's attention.

"Margaux!" Ellie shouted. "Come color with us!"

"NO!" Bella whined. "Let's play dolls!"

"I want to watch TV!" Vivi announced.

"There's a Disney movie on right now!" Camila said.

They all grabbed Margaux and pulled her in the direction of the living room. Dean took this chance to run upstairs and change into jeans and a button down shirt. He combed through his hair and put on some cologne. As he dabbed on the perfume, he stopped. What was you going to do for the next six hours? He could not hang out with Margaux that entire time. That would be weird. He did not want to sit in his room the entire time while a pretty girl was downstairs and he looked this good. His mind was made up for him when he heard Margaux calling his name.

"Dean! Someone is at the door for you!"

Dean came bounding down the stairs. Standing on the front stoop was the neighbor boy, Charlie. Charlie was Dean's age and one of his best mates during primary school. He was tall, with an athletic body, and bright red wavy hair.

"A friend of yours?" Margaux asked.

"Dean! My man!" Charlie greeted. He and Dean completed an intricate handshake that involved slapping hands, then joining to form a fist, and smacking their shoulders together. "What's up?"

Margaux turned and went back into the living room to play horses with the girls.

"Dude," Charlie attempted to whisper, "she's smokin'."

Dean shoved Charlie outside and closed the door. "Shut up," Dean said. "She hears everything, like the ears of an eagle."

"Doesn't matter, she can hear me tell her that all day. What's she doing here anyways? Who is she?"

Dean sat down on the front step and Charlie joined him. "She goes to my boarding school. We're… kind of friends? I'm not sure. Apparently our mums know each other and my mum hired her to babysit. With no warning to me. Do you know how I greeted her? In sweatpants and a bloody shirt with the Batman logo on it."

"Oh man," Charlie said. "Good thing I'm dressed up."

Dean's eyes swept over Charlie's high school lacrosse team shirt and jeans. "Sure, mate."

Charlie shrugged. "I was going to ask if you wanted to come over and play Mario, but I think we should stick around here."

"Or," Dean said, "I could stick around here and you could go back to your house."

"Not a chance," Charlie laughed. He stood up and started for the front door knob. Dean hopped up and stopped the screen door with his foot.

"Come on, mate," Charlie said. "My mum's boyfriend is over and they're piss drunk."

Dean sighed. "Fine. But mate, I'm serious. Don't embarrass me."

Charlie continued to grin. "You fancy her, don't you?"

"What? No!" Dean said a little too quickly.

"You do," Charlie said. "Don't worry, I'm a great wingman."

He shoved Dean out of the way and entered the house. The boy made a beeline for the living room and took a seat on the couch.

"Hi there," he said, holding out his hand. "Name's Charlie. I live across the street."

Margaux raised her eyebrows. Charlie was cute, Dean knew she saw it, but he came off as an asshole. "Hi," she said, shaking his hand. "Where are you guys headed?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Charlie said. He made himself comfortable on the plush beige couch.

Vivi shook the water from her hands as she came back from the bathroom. Her eyes went straight towards the strange boy sitting in her previous spot.

"I was sitting there!" Vivi yelled.

"There's a seat right next to me," Charlie tilted his head to his left.

"BUT I WAS SITTING THERE."

Charlie looked from Vivi to Margaux. She was now in a defensive pose, her arms crossed and her jaw pressed tightly. "She was sitting there," Margaux said.

Slowly, Charlie scooted over to the other end of the couch. "Alright, bloody hell, I'm sorry."

Dean picked up the remote and turned on the television.

"HEY!" Camila shouted. "I was going to watch a movie that comes on in five minutes!"

"What movie?" Dean asked.

" _Grease_!" she said.

"Camila, we own that on DVD. You can watch it anytime. We can't watch this rugby match anytime."

"Margauxxxxxxxx," Camila whined. "You said I could watch the movie."

Margaux put down the toy pony whose hair she was brushing for Bella. She crawled over to Dean on her knees and rested her clasped hands on the arms of his chair.

"Dean," she said sweetly. "Let your sister watch TV."

Dean bit his lip and finally handed Margaux the remote. She smiled. Charlie threw his hands into the air as the TV flipped over to the musical. After nearly one excruciating hour of Olivia Newton John deciding between her love or her future, Dean was relieved to hear his sister's speak words other than the lyrics to the horrid songs.

"I'm hungry!" Vivi whined. Her words were followed by a series of high-pitched "me too"'s, including one from Charlie.

"I'll order pizza," Dean jumped at the opportunity to leave the room. "What does everyone want?"

The girls all started talking at once. They shouted out pizza toppings in rapid fire, only pausing to argue with each other on the validity of each topping's taste.

"Stop! Stop!" Dean shouted. "I'm getting two pepperoni pizzas and if you don't like that, just deal with it."

Vivi stuck her tongue out at her older brother, who returned the gesture. Dean hurried into the kitchen, picked up the cordless phone from the table, and dialed the number. As he spoke, he noticed Margaux walking into the kitchen. She sat at a barstool positioned around the kitchen peninsula and leaned her face against her fist. Dean grew nervous as she watched him intently.

"Okay," he pressed the end call button, "it'll be about thirty minutes."

Margaux nodded. "Sounds good."

Dean leaned against the opposite side of the counter. "So, why are you in here and not watching that bloke singing about greasy lightening?"

"John Travolta is a fantastic actor," she smiled.

"So, I expect we'll be seeing an Academy Award for him sometime in the future?"

"He should have won it for this movie."

Dean laughed. "Are you being serious?"

"Hell no," she giggled. "He creeps me out. I hate this movie."

"Me, too!" he said. "God, I hate it. It's so boring."

Margaux smiled. "You seem like the type who only watches artsy foreign films."

Dean stuck his nose in the air. "I do."

"You do not."

"Is _Die Hard_ an artsy film?"

"Oh, yeah," she smiled. "Totally."

"What about _Philadelphia_?"

Margaux's eyes squinted. "That's more your type of movie, I would imagine."

"It's one of my favorites."

"I'll watch anything with Denzel," she said.

"You think he's cute?"

Margaux scoffed. "That's rather presumptuous. I can like an actor without having a crush on him."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"But yes, he is cute. For being forty years old."

Dean grinned. "I look a bit like him, don't I?"

Margaux laughed loudly. "HA! In your dreams, Thomas."

He smiled as her eyes never left his face. She was so beautiful, he could hardly take his eyes off her. Her golden skin, her blonde hair, her green eyes, her lips always curved into a slight smile. His thought was cut short when she gasped and grabbed for a photo frame on the fireplace mantle next to her. Inside the frame was a photo of Dean, aged 4, sitting on a rocking horse and clad in jean overalls.

"You were cute!" she cooed.

Dean's face warmed. "Thanks."

"Oh my god, Dean, you were adorable."

He grinned and put his hand over the glass. "Who said you could look at that?"

She slid the photo out from under his palm. "My eyes did."

"You've got to let me see a baby photo of you sometime, so we can call it even," he demanded.

"I've got one," she pulled out her purse, searched through her wallet, stopped on an old film shot, then handed it to Dean.

He scanned the photo. It was taken outside some restaurant called "Olive Garden." Margaux, dressed in a red Winnie the Pooh shirt and pink shorts, hugged her sister, who wore a paisley sundress. Margaux's hair was even blonder than it was now.

"You look like Draco," Dean said. After the words exited his lips, he knew he should not have said that.

"Shut up!" Margaux laughed.

"And your sister's got about the hair color you have now. What happened?"

"Hair changes when you get older," she rolled her eye. "And Lenore makes her hair darker on purpose. Mine is all natural." She flipped her short hair as best she could.

"You were cute," Dean smiled. "With your little gap grin. How old were you?"

"Maybe four."

"I was four in that photo, too! Also, what is Olive Garden?"

"Oh," Margaux said, "let me tell you. Olive Garden is only the hottest spot in American to get engaged."

"Really?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"If you are trash," she smiled. "Olive Garden is kind of like Prezzo, but bigger portions. Much bigger."

"Sounds American. Do you miss the food over there?"

"Nah," she waved her hand. "It's not that good anyways. Some is, but a lot of it is overwhelming. Everything is salty and cheesy and I get tired of that."

"I'm sure you are eagerly awaiting this Domino's pizza, then."

She laughed. "I'm starving actually. I don't eat before I babysit, so I can rifle through people's pantries and eat their food. But I can't very well do that with you and Charlie here."

Dean scurried over to the pantry and opened the doors. He showcased it to Margaux. "Have at it. But I'm warning you, my mother is on a health kick. She won't let Ellie eat pastries anymore."

"What a monster!" Margaux faked gasped.

"I'll tell her you said that," Dean said wryly. "She'll dock your pay."

Margaux's mouth dropped open in a smile. "Then I'll tell her you made a pass at me!"

"Oh god, Mar, please don't. She's already threatened to beat me."

Margaux giggled and grabbed the front of his shirt in her palm. "What happened to Batman?"

Dean's face warmed under her touch. "I-I expected an old lady to show up to the door but I got you and Charlie."

"You dressed up for me?"

Her eyes were so tantalizing. "Honey," he smiled. "I dress up for me."

She laughed. "Nah, I think you dressed up for Charlie."

"He's wearing a t-shirt with like three ketchup stains."

They spent the remaining thirty minutes sitting in the kitchen, talking about nothing in particular, but rarely letting their smiles dissipate. Dean still could not believe she was sitting in his kitchen, next to him, laughing at this jokes, and she would be for the rest of the night. She was so lovely and playful and every time she spoke, he could not help but listen to her intently. At one point, she reached across him for a pen and he felt her arm graze his, which sent electrifying shivers down his limbs. Soon, the doorbell rang. Margaux was the first one up, with Dean a few paces behind her, clutching the pound notes to pay the delivery driver.

Margaux unlocked the front door to reveal a pimply faced teenage boy. He looked up from his insulated bag of pizzas and his eyes immediately grew wide.

"Hi," Margaux smiled.

The boy was silent for a moment, before he was able to speak. "I-I have two pizzas here for Dean Thomas."

Dean swung the door open wider. The boy did not take his eyes off Margaux. She continued to smile at him. Dean rolled his eyes. He knew she loved when boys acted dumb in front of her.

"How much, mate?" Dean asked.

"F-fourteen-seventy-four."

Dean handed him the notes. The boy fumbled with the money for a moment.

"C-can you take these?"

"Sure, love," Margaux said flirtatiously. At the exact moment she made eye contact with the boy, he dropped the two pizzas on the ground.

"Oh fuck," Dean shouted, jumping out of the way.

"I'm so sorry!" the boy said.

"What's all the noise about?" Charlie called from the couch.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," the boy said. "Really, I'm sorry. I can give you these for free, if you wa—"

Dean started to open his mouth, but Margaux cut him off. "Don't worry about it. It's in a box, it's fine."

"AYYY!" Charlie shouted as he joined the scene. The pizza boy's face brightened tremendously. Charlie did a similar intricate handshake as previously with the bewildered pizza guy. "This is my boy! My homie from Churchmead Academy!"

"Hey, Char!" the guy said with newfound pep. "I royally fucked up, didn't I?"

"Ah, it's no matter," Charlie said. "It'll still taste like pizza even if it's upside down."

"Wait," Margaux said. "You guys go to Churchmead?"

"Sure do! Go Fightin' Friars!" the pizza boy said.

"The 'C' on your shirt makes sense now," Margaux pointed to Charlie. "It doesn't stand for 'cunt.'"

All the boys gasped at her humor and laughed wildly. Charlie put up his hands in surrender.

"Anyway, my boyfriend goes there!"

Dean's head spun around to Margaux so rapidly he almost became dizzy. _Boyfriend._

"What's his name?" Charlie asked.

"Michael Sanders."

Dean's mind was working in overdrive. " _Michael? Who the hell is Michael? Has she ever mentioned him? When did this happen? How does she know a Michael?_ "

"MIKEY!" both boys shouted at the same time.

"Ol' Mikey is a top notch lad!" pizza boy said.

Charlie nodded along. "Quality banter from good ol' Mikey."

"Yeah, he's a fun guy! I actually went to a dance with him at the beginning of summer. Were you lot there?"

"Nah," pizza guy said. "I'm not much of a dancer. I can barely handle carrying a pizza."

The two pizzas still laid flat on the ground between the four teenagers. Margaux used this opportunity to call the girls into the hallway and have them carry the pizzas to the kitchen.

"You wanna join us for some _Grease?_ " Charlie asked the pizza boy.

"Naw, mate, I gotta get back to work. Got enough grease there. You lot have fun."

He was not even off the front stoop before Charlie sprinted to the kitchen for his share of pizza. Margaux started to turn and head for the kitchen, but Dean touched his fingers to her elbow.

"Hey," he said quieter than Margaux had ever heard him, ""boyfriend'?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "We've been dating a few weeks. He's my neighbor."

Dean gulped. "I-is he a nice guy?"

"Yeah! He's very sweet to me."

Dean was not sure if he should feel depressed or enraged. Right now, he was just trying not to make either apparent. _Margaux had a boyfriend._ His chances with her now seemed slim to none. It might only be a summer fling, he hoped.

"T-that's nice."

Margaux examined Dean's face. He had to stop making his face show emotion. He tried to hide his expression, but he could not stop feeling surprised and even a little hurt. He could not explain why. He never told her he fancied her. For all he knew, she had no idea. She probably did not. She never acted like she liked him. But he still held on hope that one day, she would reciprocate. Dean quickly shook the look off his face and gave an empty grin. "So," he said, "let's finish up the movie."

The pair got two plates full of pizza and sat at opposite ends of the living room. The movie continued with little chatter from the audience until Troy and Gabriella sang an emotional duet at the country club talent show. After a few minutes, Margaux heard Camila sniffle beside her.

"Camila, what's wrong?" Margaux whispered.

Camila wiped her eyes. "Danny is so beautiful."

"What?" Margaux said.

Camila darted off the couch and into the bathroom. Margaux sat for a moment, then looked a Dean. "What's wrong with her?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "She's in that weird stage about boys."

Margaux glared at him, then swiftly got up and followed Camilla to the bathroom. Dean sighed and went after her as well.

"Camilla, honey?" Margaux tapped on the door. "What's wrong?"

Dean heard the sink running water, and then stopping. Then he heard his oldest sister softly sobbing. "D-d-danny from _Grease_ will never love me."

Margaux looked at Dean. "Danny isn't a real person," Margaux said.

Camilla's cries grew louder.

"No, Mar," Dean said, "you can't say that. They all think he's real. Or they want him to be. They've got posters of all these teenage boys everywhere. They are in love."

Margaux crinkled her nose. "What? Why?"

"Didn't you ever have crushes like that?"

"No," she shook her head. "I mean, I liked New Kids on the Block, I thought they were fit, but I wasn't like… obsessed."

"Well she is obsessed," Dean nodded towards the door. "Talk to her like her boyfriend just broke up with her."

"Camilla?" she asked louder than their previous conversation. "Can I come in?"

"No!" she cried.

"Come on, Cam," Dean said. "Margaux is one of the nicest people I know. You'll love talking to her!"

Margaux smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. His stomach flipped. Slowly, the bathroom door opened. Margaux slipped in, but Camilla put her hand up when Dean attempted to enter. "No. Girls only," she slammed the door.

Dean folded his arms and stood outside the bathroom door, listening in to their conversation.

"Tell me," Margaux said, "what do you like about Troy?"

"He's so handsome," Camilla replied. "And friendly and funny."

"What makes him handsome?"

"His eyes!" she gushed.

"And what do you think makes you beautiful?"

The question seemed to strike Camilla as unusual, as she took a minute to reply. "I think I've got nice eyes. And my mum says my hair is pretty."

"What about your personality?"

"I'm nice to people. I like to have fun. I'm a good reader."

"You are beautiful, Camilla. Just as beautiful as Danny. He would be lucky to be your boyfriend."

Camilla hesitated. Dean thought he could hear his sister hug Margaux. So even she's gotten further with Margaux than him. "Thanks!" Camilla said.

She hurried out the door and back to the living room.

"Holy shit," Dean said. "That was brilliant."

"Thanks," Margaux smiled. "Pep talks aren't really my thing, but I figured it out."

After the movie ended, Margaux got the four girls ready for bed while Charlie and Dean caught the end of their sports match on television. Margaux returned some time later and after the match, the trio played video games for a bit and finally plain, old-fashioned board games. Margaux kept cheating at Uno, so Dean threw the deck in the air. Finally, 12:05a.m. rolled around and the front door creaked open.

"We're home!" Shea McClain called.

The three abandoned the wreck of cards and greeted the adults in the entryway. "Everything go alright?" Shea asked.

"Brilliant," Margaux said. "Your girls are lovely children."

"And what about Dean?" asked Shea as she removed her high heels and stockings.

"He's perfectly fine, too," Margaux laughed. "Although I prefer watching over the girls."

Dean couldn't help but smile. Mark McClain handed Margaux a cheque, which she folded and placed in her pocket.

"Dean, why don't you walk Margaux home? I don't want her out this late by herself," his mother suggested.

"Oh, it's okay!" Margaux said. "I'll be fine."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. McClain said. "I would offer Mark to give you a ride home, but someone—" She glared at her husband. "—forgot to purchase petrol."

Mark threw his hands up. "Sorry, dear!"

Shea rolled her eyes and hung her fur shaw over the staircase banister. "I'm surprised we even made it home. The car was running on fumes! Mark will be walking to the petrol station tomorrow morning."

"I'll come with you, too!" Charlie said.

"Won't your mother want you home?" asked Shea.

Charlie check his watch. "Naw. It's midnight on a Friday. Mum is just cracking open her second bottle of wine. It's best I stay out."

Shea shot him a concerned glance but said, "Alright. Goodnight, Margaux! I'll call you again sometime!"

"Thank you, Mrs. McClain!" the blonde witch called as she exited the door.

Dean and Charlie followed her out the door. "How far away do you live?" Dean asked.

"I'm sorry you have to walk me, geez," she laughed.

"No!" he said quickly. "I don't mind at all, honestly."

It was true. He wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. Except, he wished Charlie was not five feet away, snorting from allergies the entire night instead of using a tissue.

"Down four blocks and over two," Margaux replied.

"That's not far," Dean said.

The teenagers bantered on for the entire walk— Dean and Charlie about rugby, Dean and Margaux about Seamus, Charlie and Margaux about Michael (the latter of which, Dean was not a fan of.) When they got to Margaux's house, Charlie said his goodbyes.

"Come here!" he said, pulling Margaux in for a bear hug.

"Oh!" she said, laughing a bit. She returned the hug for a few seconds as Charlie spun her around. She let go with a smile. She turned to Dean and he gulped.

"Goodnight!" she put her hand up in a wave goodbye.

"What?" Charlie said. "No hug for Dean?"

"I mean…" Margaux said. "I guess."

She wrapped her arms around his waist. He could feel every moment of her body magnified. Her fingers on his back. The rise and fall of her chest. Her cheek pressed against his ribs. He gave her a quick couple pats on the back and cringed. She laughed and look up at him. "Why are you smacking me?"

"I-I don't know," he admitted.

She gave him one more tight squeeze and pulled away. "Goodnight, prat."

"Night, Mar. See you later."

As Margaux entered her house and shut off the porch light, Dean let out the breath he had been holding. The perfection that was Margaux had just been pressed against his body. The night turned out way better than he expected.

"Damn, isn't she fit?" he heard Charlie say next to him.

"God, is she," Dean said, before he took off running down the sidewalk, Charlie only a few steps behind.


	17. Chapter 17: Augusta Gives The Talk

Neville tried to ignore the knock on the front door.

" _Gran will get it,_ " he thought.

But she either had the radio up really loudly and could not hear or she was out of the house. Neville strained his ears for the sound of DJ voices discussing the morning news, but did not hear anything. He decided he should put his book down and answer the door.

He hopped down the stairs and opened the door to reveal Mrs. Dubinsky standing on his front stoop.

"Why hello there, Neville! How are you today?"

"I'm good," Neville said, a little taken aback.

"Lenore is on the phone for you."

Neville's eyes grew wide. "For me?"

"Well dear, she may have liked my cooking, but we're not pals now."

"Alright, thank you, I'm coming."

Neville forwent his shoes and followed Mrs. Dubinsky across the sidewalk.

"Hello?" he said picking up the phone.

"Hi, Neville."

Neville noticed her voice had a hint of melancholy that was not usually present.

"Hi. Is everything okay?"

She seemed to take forever to answer. It had been nearly two and half weeks since they last spoke at the dinner. Lenore was not quite sure how to broach her subject, she just knew she needed to talk to someone.

"Do you remember when you said I could tell you anything?"

"Yeah," he said.

"I-I need to talk to you. I mean, if you want to listen."

"Of course I do," Neville breathed.

Lenore leaned back on her bed. She stared up at the lazy ceiling fan, picking out a single blade to follow with her eyes.

"The problem is, I don't know how to start. I never know how to start things."

"Tell me one general word about what's bothering you."

"Raquel."

Neville's heart sank. He knew Lenore would start crying when she discussed her deceased friend. Neville could not hear her cry, for fear of crying himself. He rarely cried, but when he saw or heard anybody shedding tears, he began to get choked up as well. Gran called it "empathy". Most people called it being a wuss.

"Her sister had her baby last week. A boy. I went over to their house today to see him. It was the first time I had been in there since Raquel died."

She paused. "It was so weird. Everything was the same. And yet… it wasn't. The furniture hadn't moved, the dogs were still curled up by the couch, the TV was playing the news like it always did. But Raquel wasn't there."

Neville could hear her voice breaking.

"His name is Keyon. The baby. And Neville," she sniffed, "he looks just like her."

Lenore set the phone on the bed and wiped her face with her forearm.

"Lenore?"

She heard Neville talking, so she picked the phone back up.

"Do you want to come over and talk?"

"I look like a mess," she said.

"I don't care. You're beautiful, no matter what."

Lenore gasped a little too loudly. Neville immediately winced. When he talked to her, sometimes the words just flowed out before he could think.

"Okay. I'll be over in a little bit."

"See you then."

They each said goodbye and hung up. Neville thanked Mrs. Dubinsky and bolted out of the house before she could ask any questions. He ran up to his room and straightened it up. Suddenly, he realized Gran was not home. She was going to kill him for having a girl over while she was not there. Some things are worth the consequences he figured.

Within twenty minutes, Lenore was in his bedroom, leaning up against his windowsill. She wore no makeup and large glasses that did not hide her eyes, red and puffy from stress. Her hair naturally fell in loose, thick curls and Neville thought it was beautiful. She rubbed her cheek with her palm, she felt so out of it. Neville brought her the box of tissues from the bathroom, which made her laugh.

"Are you sure you don't want to take Divination this year? It's like you know the future."

He smiled. "That's not fortune-telling, that's context clues."

"I'm going to try not to cry," she said.

"It's probably better if you do cry. Or you won't really feel better."

"We'll see," she said. "I'm sorry to bother you with this."

Neville leaned the back of his legs against his mattress. About a meter separated the pair, but the energy in the room made him feel closer to her. "No, please tell me. I want you to talk about it."

She gave him a small smile. "Where was I?"

"The baby looks like Raquel."

"Oh that's right!" she said, laying down on the window seat. "Keyon is very cute. He's mixed race, with curly hair and bright brown eyes. But his face looks so much like Raquel's. Same nose and mouth and similar facial expressions."

Lenore shook her head.

"Her poor sister. Raquel died while Kiah was about five months pregnant. Can you even imagine? It's just Kiah, too. The dad is a deadbeat. Kiah hasn't spoken to him since she told him he was the father. So, Kiah and Mrs. McBride are raising Keyon on their own."

Lenore laid her arm over her face and attempted to rest her mind.

If Neville could see inside her mind, he was sure he would see it wildly spinning like a tornado. He had no idea what to do, but he finally decided on asking, "Are you okay?"

Lenore took a deep breath, sighed, and said faintly, "It really is unfair how some people have to take on more sadness than others."

Neville could hear her heavy breathing during the pause. His own breathing quickened. He nodded.

She sat up straight. "I'm serious. I just wish I could take everyone's sadness away. Do you ever wish you could live somebody else's life for a few weeks, just to spare them from unhappiness? I want that every day."

Lenore's eyes brimmed with tears. "I can handle myself being sad, I don't want to see other people sad. That's what really breaks me."

Neville watched tears fall from her red eyes and slide down her soft cheeks. Her voice quavered so violently he could almost feel his heart splitting into two. He wanted to be of some comfort, but he merely sat in silence, eyeing her like she was an exhibit at the zoo, and he hated himself for it.

"There is just so much pain in the world," she continued. "It's why Raquel killed herself. She couldn't handle it. And… and I just wish I had been there to take on some of her sadness."

Lenore was sobbing at this point. She could not stop talking and bawling. "I said I wouldn't cry," she gasped, "and look at me now." She reached for tissues and then turned around so her back was towards Neville. "Actually, don't look at me. I don't want you to think of me this way."

Neville felt a strange mixture of panic and calm. He felt helpless. He had no clue what to do while she cried. He thought he should go sit next to her, but she had just told him to not look at her. He thought he should say comforting words, but his mind was blank. He decided to take a risk and ask.

"Len, what can I do to take away some of your sadness?"

She wiped her eyes, stood up and wrapped her arms around him.

Once he regained his breath, he held her firmly, one hand on her back, the other in her soft hair, making sure she felt safe. He could feel her body heave heavily with every sob. As if his dark mind was illuminated with a flashlight, suddenly he came up with some words to speak. Whether or not these words would be good or not, he had not determined. He only knew he had to say something.

"You know," he whispered kindly, "I don't have to do anything to take your pain away. Because right now I'm sure you have trouble getting out of bed, but each day you're going to wake up and the pain will feel duller and duller. It will never go away. It will always be there. You just learn how to deal with it."

"I'm scared I'll forget about her," Lenore said, gripping his back.

"You won't. You might think you are forgetting, but you never do. Little moments will always remind you of her."

Lenore was silent. Neville realized her breathing had become rhythmic with the rising and falling of his chest, which struck him with such surprise that he closed his eyes. He could feel nearly her entire body weight leaning into him, so he held her firmly to halt her natural sway. After a few moments, she turned her head so that her forehead rested on him rather than her cheek. "Neville, you have been though a lot more than me. How do you handle it?"

Neville thought a moment. He desperately wanted to tell her. Nothing was stopping him. He could not decide if it would take attention away from her problems, but he decided she might be able to relate to his own struggles somehow. She would find out sooner or later. Neville was surprised Gran had not blurted it out within minutes of meeting her. "Len," he asked, "can I tell you something I've never told anybody?"

"Of course," she said.

"Well, I guess that's a lie. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny know, but I didn't tell them. They just kind of found out."

Lenore looked up at him.

"My parents are still alive."

Her mouth dropped open, which made him that much more nervous.

"They, um, they live in St. Mungo's Hospital, under full time care. A-at the time, when I was about a year old, the Death Eaters were going after anybody not on their side, especially those in the Order of the Phoenix, which my parents were a part of. There was a prophecy that the one who would defeat You Know Who would be a boy born in late July that previous year and his parents would defy him three times. It came down to me or Harry. So, he targeted both of us. He went after Harry first, killing his parents, but also killing so much of himself he had to go into hiding. Bellatrix Lestrange had kidnapped my parents and tortured them to insanity. They were found the day after You Know Who disappeared, but it was too late. They were taken to the hospital, where their bodies healed, but their minds never did."

He paused, avoiding eye contact with her no-doubt shocked face.

"That's the worst part, I think. They're frailer and more pale than most people, but they still look normal, you know? But then you look in their eyes… and it seems like nothing is going on behind them."

Neville was shaking at this point, so Lenore clenched him tighter to steady him. She rubbed circles into his back, making him sharply inhale. She wanted to kiss him. It took everything in her being not to press her lips into his. She knew he would not mind. Neville had fancied her for long enough, she figured he had imagined their first kiss together. Most likely, however, he imagined himself kissing her first, rather than her taking charge. She did not want to deny him the opportunity to make the first move.

Neville, of course, was blind to all this. "I don't get sad about it much anymore," he said. "I mean, I do wonder, all the time, what life would be like if they were just two normal parents. But I'm trying to stop before I go insane as well."

Lenore hesitated, then asked quietly, "Why don't you tell people this?"

"I-I'm not sure," Neville said. "I'm not embarrassed by them, at all. I'm quite proud to be their son. Not many people ask, to be honest. Actually, none. No one has ever asked. I-it's just easier to let people assume than to explain the truth when they didn't ask for it."

Lenore gently pressed her face into his chest again. "I understand."

Neville wanted to stay like this forever, her warmth heating up his body and his brain. She released her tight grip and he could feel her relax into him. Now, they were not clinging to each other, but more like leaning into each other. Her face buried into his chest and her hands loosely held his back. He was not nervous anymore, but more comfortable. It felt natural, her being in his arms. The two stayed in a hug for a while, absorbed in each other's warmth and completely unaware of their surroundings

"Ne— WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

The two jumped apart as quickly as possible. Neville spun around at the sound of his grandmother's voice. There Augusta stood, in his bedroom doorway, arms folded and glaring at him with daggers in her eyes. No, worse than daggers. With machine guns in her eyes. Glaring at him with machine guns in her eyes and her finger on the trigger.

"Are you going to make me repeated myself?" she asked icily.

Before he could react, Lenore stepped forward and over to Augusta. His eyes nearly jumped out of his head. He did not have time to stop her.

"Mrs. Longbottom, I am so sorry! This is all my fault. I-I've been having a rough time lately, to be completely honest with you, and I just needed to talk to Neville. I didn't realize you weren't home until I got here. It won't happen again, but I can assure you, nothing happened upstairs or anywhere, ever. I can't apologize enough."

Augusta was silent. She took a good look up and down Lenore and said, "I trust you, dear. I'm not mad at you."

She turned to Neville and her tone changed dramatically. "It's you I'm disappointed in. Inviting girls over to the house while I'm not home… HAVE YOU LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND?"

Neville's mouth did not seem connected to his mind. He opened and closed his mouth several times, still in shock that his grandmother saw him hugging Lenore.

Augusta mocked him by dropping her mouth open several times and saying "Uh, uh, uh," each time. "If you can't answer me, you are going to listen to me. And I'm going to say it slowly, because your brain is obviously broken."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lenore placed a hand over her mouth.

"Neville Longbottom, do not EVER bring a girl up to your room while I'm not home. I will not have that in my house. Merlin, what if the neighbors saw you? This isn't like you Neville. We'll discuss this later."

She turned to walk back into the hallway, but Lenore called after her.

"Augusta, I swear it wasn't Neville's fault! He was just trying to help me."

Augusta stopped and watched Lenore.

"Y-you see one… one of my friends recently passed away, and I don't really have anybody to talk about it with. Nobody understands. But Neville does. He is so kind. I know he would never mean to disobey you on this issue, he just felt like he needed to help a friend."

"Lenore, dear," she said after a moment, "I think it's very brave of you to stand up for Neville's choices. I don't hold a single thing against you. He is kind boy, but he is also a smart boy. In this case, he was not acting smart. Talking to you is fine, but you can talk just as well on the couch downstairs as you can in his bedroom. I'm not going to punish anybody, I just want you— Neville— to realize that you have to think about your actions."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Good. Lenore, I hope your day gets better. I'll keep you and your friend's family in my thoughts. I know what it's like to lose people close to you."

"Thank you," Lenore said sweetly. "I better get going."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Augusta said. "Surely, I interrupted something important if you were close enough that a piece of parchment couldn't pass between the two of you."

"S-sorry," Lenore said. "Really. It was just a comfort hug, not a… anything more hug."

Neville wished Lenore would stop talking, but he knew she was nervous. Talking only gave Gran more material for his inevitable lecture after she left.

"I'll discuss it with Neville," she smiled insincerely.

"I'll walk you to the port key," Neville said quickly leading Lenore by her shoulders out of the room.

He rushed down the stairs, through the hallway, and held the front door open for her. As soon as they got off the stoop, he said, "You didn't have to take the blame."

"No," Lenore argued, "it was my fault."

"I don't want Gran to be mad at you. I mean, I don't think she is, I think she's mad at me, but… I would rather her blame me."

Lenore nodded. "Thank you."

They walked in silence, until a thought occurred to Neville. "I can't believe how calm she just was."

"That was calm? You expected her to be madder?"

"Oh," he said, "she'll be livid when I go back in the house. She just didn't want to make much of a scene in front of you. She really likes you."

"Really?" Lenore said excitedly.

"Yeah. After that dinner party she kept going on and on about how polite your manners were and how lovely you are."

"I am lovely," Lenore said as she stopped in front of the portkey down an abandoned alleyway.

"You are," he said bashfully.

Lenore smiled and gave him a quick hug. Then, she did the unexpected:

She kissed him on the cheek. Her soft lips on his skin sent shivers down his spine. This was the second time she had pecked him on the cheek, but it had no less of an affect on Neville. He stared at her in awe as she stepped away and towards the port key.

"Bye Nev," she smirked.

As she grabbed the port key and disappeared, all Neville could say was "Merlin…"

He savored the moment for a few seconds, before trudging the cracked sidewalk back to his house. He twisted the door knob slowly and stepped over the threshold. Without a trace of Augusta pouncing on him, he attempted to sneak back to his room undetected. His foot just barely touched the first creaky step, when was stopped.

"Oh Neville?"

Her voice called innocently from the living room. Neville exhaled and quietly entered the room where Augusta sat on a couch, he hands clasped in front of her purposefully. He sat on the couch next to her and avoided eye contact. She was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she said, "Had a good time today, didn't we?"

"Gran—"

"No," she cut him off. "Don't try to explain yourself. What were you doing with Lenore in your room?"

"We—"

"Merlin, Neville, I am so disappointed in you. This is so unlike you, what the hell happened?"

"I—"

"You should have—"

Neville's anger boiled over. He interrupted her with a shout.

"What do you want me to say?" he exploded at once. "You keep asking questions and cutting me off! For fucksake, please stop! Either let me tell my side of the story or don't even ask."

Neville did not break eye contact with his grandmother. She stared at him in disbelief.

"Neville…" she said dumbly, "you've… never spoken to me that way before."

Neville exhaled deeply and hung his shoulders. "Sorry."

"No," she said firmly, "stop apologizing. You stood up for yourself for once in your life. I'm glad. Don't make a habit of it, but I'm… glad."

Neville rested his elbows on his knees and laid his face in his hands. He sighed.

"Tell me your side of the story then," prompted Augusta.

"Are you going to listen?" he asked quietly.

She nodded.

He raised his head and looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry, alright? I really am. I honestly did not think about it. She was crying, Gran. What was I supposed to do? My brain… I just didn't know what to do to make her stop. I thought she would be more comfortable in my room, because she sat in the window seat for a couple minutes when she came over for dinner. She sat down and started absolutely sobbing. Her friend died, one of her muggle friends. Suicide. At sixteen years old. She lived across the street from Lenore and every time she looks out her window, she can see the house. Gran, she never shows emotion other than general happiness. She doesn't open up to people and I wasn't going to stop her from opening up to me, if that's what she wanted. She was sobbing and I asked her what I could do and she hugged me and I sure as hell wasn't going to stop that either. I told her about Mum and Dad and I've never told anyone, which I know you hate. She… she understood. Or maybe that's not exactly it, but telling her made me feel better. And somehow, I think me listening to her made her feel better. I'm not going to apologize for that."

Augusta watched him silently. He closed his mouth and pressed his lips tightly together to signal he was done.

"Neville…" she said agonizingly slowly, "you've got a crush on her, haven't you?"

Neville gasped. "No, no, I—"

"Don't lie to me," she said, "because I already know the answer."

Gradually, he began to nod.

"But you've never…?"

Neville stayed quiet, waiting for her to complete her sentence, but she did not. "We've never done anything, I swear. She's given no indication she's into me."

"But she at least likes being your friend?"

"I-I would hope so," he said.

"She does," Augusta said. "I can tell she definitely values you, or she wouldn't have stuck up for you just now. I don't know about being 'into' you or whatever you kids are calling it, but she cares about you."

Neville could not believe he was talking about his crush to his grandmother. They never talked about anything personal. It was strange, but not as uncomfortable as he would have thought.

"Why haven't you made a move?"

Now it was going to get uncomfortable. Though vaguely amused that she knew the phase 'made a move,' Neville shifted nervously in his seat. "B-because look at her."

Augusta furrowed her eyebrows. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"She's perfect. And I'm just… me."

Augusta laughed and looked into the distance. She sighed with amusement. "I had this same conversation with you father about your mum. He said the exact same thing to me, same words and everything, before he asked Alice to marry him."

She returned her gaze to Neville. "You make me prouder every day. I just want you to know that, before I chew you out."

He blinked a few times in surprise. His grandmother had only said she was proud of him one other time: right before he boarded the Hogwarts Express, aged eleven.

"I admire your kindness to Lenore. I really do like her. But never bring her into your room again when I'm not home. Or any other girl. Even you are only friends. It's a boundary issue, Neville. I don't want that in my house. And I suppose it's about time I give you the talk."

Neville's eyes nearly doubled in size. "What talk?"

"The sex talk."

"No, Gran," he said quickly, "I know everything. I probably know more than you. Please, don't."

She waved him off. "You might know the basics, like the birth control spell or where to put what, but you don't know how to _treat_ sex."

"Gran," he begged. "Please…"

"Women are to be cherished, Neville!" she announced articulately and loudly. "Always make sure she is having a good time, before you even THINK about yourself."

Neville remained silent, hoping she would stop there.

"Her pleasure is more important than yours, trust me. Anybody can have sex with a woman, but it takes a true man to make love to her."

"Gran—" he cringed.

"Oh, I'm just getting started," she grinned wickedly. "This is your punishment. You are going to sit here and listen to me teach you the wonders of the word 'sex.' Now, to pleasure a woman, make her feel emotionally safe."

He was thankful she went back to emotions, and not sex.

"Do you know where the clitoris is?"

He buried his face in his hands. "Yes," he sighed.

"Where is it then?"

He groaned and said quietly, "Near the top."

"Very good! Focus on that, especially during oral."

Neville nearly choked on his own saliva. He began coughing wildly.

"Don't lick everywhere, you massage only the clitoris area," Augusta continued. "And back to oral, if you expect to get it, you better expect to give it. I once dated a man—"

"PLEASE," Neville's head shot up. "Please, please, no personal stories. Please."

Augusta smiled. "Alright, I won't. I think you get the idea. Focus on the clitoris. And listen to her. Do what she says. Also, during all this, I want to stress, I am not encouraging you to have sex. You need to wait until you and your partner are ready. I guess now we can get into the emotions."

Neville sighed thankfully.

"Sex isn't just something you do. Well, I guess for some people it is, and that's okay, but you seem like the monogamous type. That's great. But it makes sex more confusing. I recommend waiting a while for sex. At your age, I'd wait a long while. Like until you are eighteen. Sex is so difficult when you are young. Life in general is difficult at that age. We don't know what we want. When you're older, like your twenties, I'd still recommend waiting a few weeks, maybe even a couple months. Sex is for strengthening a connection, not creating one, you understand?"

He nodded.

"I know as your guardian, I'm supposed to push the whole abstinence thing, but honestly that is nonsense. Sex should be enjoyed by both parties, it's not something to fear. I just want you to be aware of the emotional toll it takes on a person to have sex when you are not ready."

"O-okay," he replied.

She smiled and patted her thigh. "Alright then, I'm done."

"Done? This is over?"

"Finished. Well, one more thing:"

Neville gulped.

"Always let her finish first. It will take some practice on your part, but it is worth it, trust me."

Neville closed his eyes. "Now is it over?"

"Yes."

"Thank god," he sighed. He started to stand, until Augusta spoke.

"Oh wait! I forgot to ask— do you have any questions?"

Neville pretended to think in order to appease her. But in the process, he accidentally thought of a real question. He debated asking her or not, but soon decided she would like it if he asked.

"H-how can you tell if a girl fancies you?"

"How can you tell if Lenore fancies you?" she smiled. "Well, does she flirt with you?"

Neville had no idea. "I-I don't know."

"Does she go out of her way to talk to you about personal things?"

He thought about all the times she talked to him about her problems and helped him with his. But isn't that what friends do? "I… don't know."

"Does she try to touch you?"

He recalled her kiss on the cheek today and multiple hugs. But doesn't everyone hug and kiss goodbye? "I don't know."

"Neville," she rolled her eyes, "it sounds like you need to pay closer attention."

"I-I do," he admitted.

"But just keep treating her like the sweetheart you are, and she just might fall for you."

"O-okay," he said quietly. "T-thanks."

"Any more questions?"

Neville hesitated. He really did have questions about sex. But there was no way he was talking about that with his grandmother. If anyone, he would ask Lenore. She seemed to have no qualms about discussing sex, for whatever reason.

"No."

"Alright then, I'll be in the kitchen starting dinner. If you need something to do, go clean your room, it looks like a pig's sty."

With each stairstep he climbed, Neville's mind deepened in thought.


	18. Chapter 18: One Wedding, No Funerals

**This is one of my favorite chapters yet. :) Enjoy! Be sure to leave a review and let me know who your favorite character is!**

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"Tim! You cannot wear that to a wedding!"

"Honey, don't nag me, I look fine."

Lenore and Margaux quickly turned their heads to each other. The sisters smiled wryly and rushed to their parents' bedroom down the hall. Timothy and Clair Henry fights always provided entertainment. They were not serious arguments, obviously, but rather so ridiculous that they were highly humorous.

Tim Henry stood outside the walk-in-closet, wearing a jean shirt under a navy suit. He paired it with a Looney Tunes tie.

"Tim, you know how to dress," Clair huffed. "Wear what you wear to work."

"This is what I wear to work!" he fought back.

The pair stood glaring at each other in silence. Clair donned a cute blue and pink floral blouse and white capri pants matched with diamond jewelry. In all their lives, Margaux and Lenore could only remember one time their mother ever wore a dress. She absolutely detested the article of clothing.

"Hi girls," Clair said, "please tell your dad he looks ridiculous."

"Daddy, you can't wear that," Margaux pleaded.

Tim rolled his eyes. "What is wrong with this?"

"Well for one, Daffy Duck is giving me a thumbs up," Lenore said.

"For another," Margaux said, "you look like you're going to hardware store convention."

"Alright!" Tim threw up his arms. "I'll change!"

"Hurry!" Clair said. "We've got to go in five minutes! Ladies, are you ready?"

"Yes!" Margaux said enthusiastically as Lenore nodded.

Both girls wore skirts, but yet again, Margaux dressed in her trademark bright colors as Lenore appeared in darker clothes. Margaux selected her clothing to avoid the heat. Her mother's friend from book club, Lucy Hines, was getting married at four p.m. today. Why Lucy picked the end of July to have an outdoor wedding, the Henrys could not imagine. It was currently 3:15 p.m. and the Henry family was running late. Their mother was in a bad mood today. Clair rarely acted mean or unfriendly, in fact she was quite peppy. She simply felt constantly amazed at all the stupidity surrounding her.

"Lenore, you can't wear black to a wedding," Clair said, as she clasped earrings on. "It's bad luck."

At that moment, Tim emerged from the closet sporting a black suit. Clair started to open her mouth, but she dramatically clenched her lips tight and formed a fist.

"Everyone get in car before I scream," she said.

"Only my shirt is black!" Lenore argued.

"THE CAR! NOW!"

Margaux and Lenore busted ass down to the driveway as their father got behind the wheel. Tim preferred apparition when alone, but had learned how to drive an automobile for his family.

"Who is this woman marrying anyways?" Margaux asked from the backseat.

"Some guy named Taylor," Clair said. "Tim, can you step on it a little? The entire world isn't a school zone, you can go faster."

"What's his last name?"

"Tyler, I think. No, I know, because Lucy wouldn't shut up about it at the meeting. She likes the name Lucy Tyler better than Lucy Hines. It was like little kids writing their crushes names in a notebook. Lucy does that. I understand she's considerably younger than most of us— I'm 49 and she's 34— but—"

Lenore cut her mother off. "Wait. This man's name is Taylor Tyler?"

"Yes."

At once, Lenore and Margaux made eye contact. Their roasting powers would come in handy today, they just knew it.

"Get ready for a white trash extravaganza!" Lenore announced.

"We'll fit right in!" Margaux high-fived her sister.

Even Clair had to laugh. "Yes, well, you better hope they play some Kid Rock."

Margaux and Lenore knew every word to the Kid Rock song "All Summer Long" and would use it to their advantage this evening. The Henry family could be considered second-generation white trash. While both parents held down white-collar jobs, their grandparents and all their ancestors before them did not. Their mother's side was not always the classiest of people. The Collingwoods pronounced some words wrong, liked to get in fights in grocery stores, and were generally alcoholics, but they were fun people. Lenore was sure that if the Collingwoods were magical folk, every single one would be sorted in Slytherin or Gryffindor. The Henrys were among the more unrefined purebloods of the wizarding world, but they got their respect. Tim Henry fought hard to overcome the stereotype that Henry boys were low brow, but you can take the man out of the trash, not the trash out of the man. He still did some questionable things, however, like when he bought a new flat screen TV and placed it directly on top of the old boxy television set.

The family arrived to the venue at 3:45 p.m., just in the nick of time. To the family's relief, the wedding was only partial outdoors. The ceremony would be enclosed in a botanical garden with a roof and fans as plants acted as walls. As Tim parked the car, Margaux glanced out the window. She saw a minivan unloading four little girls… and one tall boy.

"Oh fuck," she whispered to Lenore. "Dean's here."

"What?" Lenore said while she searched for him. "I figured he'd stay at home and watch his sisters."

"His sisters are all here, too."

Margaux exited the car and speed walked into the garden.

"There will be assigned seats," a greasy-looking usher stopped her. "Bride's guests on the left, groom's on the right. Look for your name."

"That's dumb," she muttered under her breath. She spotted the family seats near the back and the rest of the Henry family followed her.

"Oh goody," Margaux said sarcastically as she read the place cards next to their seats. "Dean's family is sitting in this row, too."

"Honestly, Mar, I can never tell if you like Dean or not," her sister replied.

"I like him," said Margaux. "He is nice! But too much of him… can be too much. Small doses. And I have a feeling this wedding won't be a small dose."

With that, The McClains entered the row and took their seats. Vivi sat next to Margaux, who greeted her with a bright smile and a kind hello.

"Dean," Mrs. McClain commanded, "sit between Camilla and Bella so they won't talk."

Dean looked mildly surprised to see Margaux sitting two seats away from him, but he took the chair next to his oldest sister, Camila. He smiled and Margaux smiled back.

"Oh, Clair!" his mother announced over about six people. "You are looking lovely!"

"Shea!" Mrs. Henry called. "I love that dress! Your family is looking great."

"Thank you! The two youngests are here for the ceremony, but Mark is taking them home before bedtime. Then the other two may go when they get bored."

Lenore and Margaux giggled at the show that was the two mothers screaming. They talked so loudly that the officiant near the front of the room kept glancing over.

"Would you like to switch places with me, ma?" Margaux said from her place next to Vivi McClain.

"Oh no!" Clair waved her daughter off. "I'll catch up with you later, Shea!"

"We'll talk over some wine at the reception!" Mrs. McClain declared. "You'll have to see the wedding cake! My little Dean baked it for Lucy, on commission!"

Margaux whirled her head around to look at Dean. She could tell his cheeks were flushed, not matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"You made the cake?" she asked.

Dean nodded.

"I'll have to tell you if it's any good," she smiled warmly.

"It is good!" Vivi said. "I was his taste tester!"

Margaux and Vivi engaged in conversation for a few minutes, before the crowd went silent. The strumming of a few guitar strings echoed through the botanical garden. The groom, apparently named Taylor Tyler, emerged from the trellis to the right and took center stage. He continued to run his hand over his guitar as Lenore sat up straighter. This was going to be interesting.

"Lucy and I," Taylor announced, "are going to do something different. We aren't your average couple. On the night we met, I was playing with my one man band—"

"So, alone," Lenore whispered to Margaux.

"—called 'TAYLOR: THE EXPERIENCE'—"

"I'm sure it is," she whispered again.

"—and Lucy came up to hear my music. I played this song for her the first time we met, and I'm playing it again on our wedding day."

Taylor hooked up his guitar to some speakers as the audience clapped. He strummed out about five notes, when Lenore gasped a little too loudly. About ten people turned and looked at her.

"WONDERWALL!" she hissed into Margaux's ear. "HE'S PLAYING WONDERWALL."

Margaux had to cover her mouth to stop from screaming like Lenore. Taylor was playing the past year's top hit. A terrible song only pretentious prats with guitars enjoyed.

" _Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you_ ," Taylor screeched out.

Dean's eyes grew wide. "Isn't this the song that pricks play to impress girls?"

Lenore nodded rapidly with a look of pure joy on her face. Taylor was not playing this song at the normal speed. He quickened the pace considerably, so the beat was bouncier.

"Oh my god," Margaux said as she noticed an usher and bridesmaid prancing down the aisle. "How do you dance to 'Wonderwall?'"

Nobody else in the room seemed to be as entertained as Margaux and Lenore. Clair's mouth dropped open and she stared at Taylor like he was an three-headed alien. Tim held his temples. Shea McClain gave a fake smile, but the pain in her eyes revealed her distaste. Mark McClain, however, had his hands in the air. He bopped along with the wedding party as they danced down the aisle. Margaux shrugged and also threw her arms up. Lenore followed, as Mark pointed to his children. Before they knew what was happening, the entire row, minus Shea and Clair, jammed along to the awful sounds coming out of Taylor's vocal cords. A goatee-sporting usher high-fived as many people in the row as he could get to while he passed.

"This is the greatest moment of my life," Lenore said to her confused mother.

Taylor crooned out one final, "'You're my wonderwall.'"

He slowed down his guitar playing as Lucy arrived at the beginning of the aisle. She was a muscular girl, covered in tattoos and wrapped up tight in a white mermaid-style dress. Her colored veil, however, matched her cropped red hair.

The audience stood up and clapped as Lucy jumped down the aisle to Taylor's guitar playing with a bright smile on her face. The ceremony went by rather uneventful, besides when the couple read their vows. Taylor promised to always love Lucy, even when her tattoos were unrecognizable. Lucy vowed to never leave Taylor, no matter how many times he watched _Roadhouse_. Lenore and Margaux did not stop laughing throughout the entire ceremony.

Shea McClain's eyes filled with tears when the bride and groom kissed. Clair Henry stared with her usual judgmental face. Taylor Tyler (it was more fun to call him by his full name, Margaux decided) led Lucy back down the aisle as the guests cheered and blew bubbles. The McClain sisters, in particular, enjoyed the bubbles. Ellie took to popping them with her tongue, which Dean and Margaux naughtily encouraged.

The reception directly followed at a venue across a car park. Roughly three hundred guests leisurely trekked their way over the blacktop. The doors opened to reveal a lovely air conditioned room that was lit up purple. White tables featuring purple and red centerpieces were splattered around a large wooden dance floor. Adorned with chrysanthemums and daisies, the room really was beautiful. A disco ball hung in the middle of the room and a long table with covered roasting dishes sat off to the left.

"A buffet," Margaux said. "Thank heaven. I hate when weddings have meals prepared."

At exactly the same time, Margaux and all the McClain sisters spotted the chocolate fountain.

"CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN!" every single girl, minus Lenore, shouted at the same time. Margaux shook her sister's arm. "I know where I'll be spending my time."

"Look for our place cards," Lenore instructed her overexcited sister.

Clair spotted the seating chart cards first. She handed them to her daughters. "You two are at a different table than us."

Lenore examined their cards. "We are at the kids table!"

"Oh that's right!" Clair said. "I told Lucy that you and Margaux would watch the kids. Sorry."

Lenore groaned. "Mom, I'm nearly seventeen."

"'Nearly' is the key word there. Behave and or you know what'll happen." Her mother flattened her palm and Lenore recalled getting her face grabbed as a child when she mouthed-off. Lenore tried very hard not to roll her eyes.

"Come on, Tim," Clair said as she gave Lenore a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

Mr. Henry dutifully obeyed as Lenore and Margaux followed the McClain sisters to their table near the back of the room. The four McClain sisters, Lenore, Margaux, Dean, and two other random children filled out the table, except for one empty seat. Dean purposefully sat next to Margaux. The guests milled around for probably fifteen minutes, until an announcer called out over the microphone "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… IT GIVES ME GREAT HONOR… TO INTRODUCE TO YOU… FOR THE FIRST TIME… MR. AND MRS. TYLER!"

The doors at the back of the hall burst open to reveal Lucy and Taylor dancing into the venue. The guests cheered and clapped wildly. The couples made their way to the dance floor. The DJ once again said, "Give it up for the happy couple!"

A Dave Matthews Band song blared at once over the speakers. Lucy and Taylor held each other and danced slowly as their family and friends watched and whistled. Their song finished up and in it's place, "Love Shack" by the B-52's began to play.

"No!" Lenore yelled. "This just keeps getting better!"

Her and Margaux followed the rest of the guests out to the floor to dance to this awful song. After the nearly six minutes were over, the girls decided to return to Dean over at the table. In the once empty chair next to Lenore, sat a tall brunette-haired boy with crystal blue eyes.

Oliver Rivers.

Lenore's mouth dropped open.

"Hello, Lenore," he cooed.

He attempted to take her hand, but she slipped out from underneath his grasp.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Lucy is my cousin," he said simply.

"Oh fucking hell," Lenore said. "Is everyone in this damn country related?"

"It would make more sense if I asked you why you were here," Oliver said. "So, why are you here?"

"My mom is friends with Lucy," Lenore said, avoiding his eyes. "This can't be your seat. You have to sit somewhere else."

"Sorry," Oliver said, "I'm not exactly thrilled about it either."

Lenore suddenly became aware that Margaux and Dean had been listening in to their entire exchange.

"What have you got against Rivers?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, Norie, what exactly have you got against me?" he smiled.

Lenore glared at Dean. "Oliver here asked me out. I said no and he called me a last resort."

"You hurt my pride," Oliver said sheepishly.

"Oh puh-LEASE," Margaux spoke up. "Get over it. I hate this 'pride' thing all blokes hide behind. Be adults and move on."

"In case you haven't noticed," Lenore said, "we're at the kids table."

The six children stared at the teenagers like they were a television program.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said to Lenore. "I really am. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I've never been turned down before, you see."

Lenore rolled her eyes.

"I didn't mean it that way! I just… I'm sorry. I feel bad about it. You weren't my last resort, I just didn't deal with my emotions properly."

"What about when you kissed me in the common room? When you were drunk and took adtange of me?"

He blinked. "What?"

She stared at him. "Do you not remember?"

"When was this?"

"Before O.W.L.s."

"We've... we've kissed?"

He genuinely appeared stunned.

"Sort of," she said. "You asked me to snog you, then as I considered it, you kissed my jaw, then my lips for a split second before I told you to go away."

"Merlin," he exhaled. "I'm so sorry, Norie. I don't remember that. I was piss drunk. I'm so sorry, please don't think I'd take advantage of you."

Lenore's face softened as she examined him. He seemed sorry. Oliver was still a prick, but a prick whose apology she could accept. "I guess I forgive you," she said.

"Thank you," he smiled. "I'm not an asshole, I promise."

"Mmm, that's not what I've heard," Lenore said.

"I'll prove it to you," he said. "Since we'll be together most of tonight, just watch me be a good person."

"Alright, I suppose I can do that."

"I'm hungry!" Vivi whined.

A smile crept across Lenore's face. "Come with us to get the kids some food," she commanded Oliver.

Oliver stood up and followed the girls to the buffet line. It was already crowded with old people. Silver serving warmers filled with delicious Mexican food lined the tables.

"It's not English food," Lenore said, "God bless them."

"You don't want some toad-in-the-holes?" Margaux asked.

"No. Scoot out of my way so I can get to the tacos."

"No, love," Oliver said from behind her, "you put the stuff inside the taco. No, hey, NO!"

The last "no" was not angry, but rather fearful. Lenore heard the clanging of a dish. On the floor laid Vivi's plate and taco ingredients. She watched smugly as Oliver attempted to tell a crying Vivi that everything would be okay.

"You really aren't great with kids," she grinned.

"Oh shhh…" Oliver said. "I am a youngest child, I don't know how to do any of this."

"Here, Vivi," Margaux swooped in, "I'll get you a taco."

She scowled at Oliver and took the little girl under her shoulder. Lenore could not help but laugh at Oliver's embarrassed face.

On their way back to the table, Margaux noticed nearly every person over the age of forty spilled tacos fillings all over their shirts, including her own mother. Maybe it was not the best wedding food, but she did not care. Once the kids were all rounded up, the table dug into their food.

"You know what would be great to wash this food down with?" Margaux announced to the adult end of the table, after a lively conversation with the children.

"Alcohol," Dean suggested.

"You read my mind, Thomas," she said.

"I'll ask dad to get us some," Lenore stood up.

Their father had previously allowed his daughters to have small doses of alcohol, but their mother was not quite so lax. Lenore had to slip in when her mother was distracted.

"Dad," Lenore said, "can you get me some champagne?"

Tim looked over at this wife. She was blabbing on with Shea McClain.

"Come on," Tim waved her towards the bar. Lenore followed him giddily.

"Two champagnes," he said to the bartender. Within seconds, he handed Lenore two flutes. "One is for your sister."

"Thanks, Dad!" she said.

As she left his eyes sight, she gulped down both glasses of champagne.

"Where is my drink?" Margaux asked when Lenore returned to the table empty handed.

"Dad said he wouldn't get us any," Lenore lied.

"You little whote!" Margaux shouted. "I saw him take you over to the bar."

Lenore laughed as Margaux punched her arm. "Sorry! It was good champagne!"

"Don't worry," Dean said, "I can get us some."

Dean walked up to the bartender, plainly asked for two champagnes and received them.

"How the hell did you do that?" Margaux looked at him in awe.

"White people have no idea how old I am," Dean laughed.

"That's insane," Margaux said. "I can't believe he just gave them to you."

"White people can't tell how old I am," Dean smirked. "Besides, he'd serve me legally in just a few months because of all the food around. Also, t's a wedding. People don't really care. You try it. He might even serve you."

Margaux nervously stood and walked over to the bar. In her most adult voice, she said "Hi. Can I get a glass of white wine?"

With no hesitation, the bartender handed her some riesling.

"Hey," Dean leaned over the table and whispered to Lenore, "hey, is Margaux still dating that muggle prat?"

Lenore laughed. "Yes. What's it to you?"

Dean merely shrugged and Lenore eyed him suspiciously. Margaux returned to the table triumphantly. "I am such an adult," she bragged.

Oliver tried the same tactic and was also served two bottles of beer. Lenore decided two glasses of champagne would be enough for now.

A couple hours went by without incident. Most of the time was spent on the dance floor, teaching the kids how to dance. Margaux taught them the YMCA, the electric slide, how to dance to "Hands Up" by Ottawan, the hustle, all the usual muggle dances. When "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch came on, Dean was the expert. Nobody managed to fling invisible pound notes as well as he could. Lenore was actually having a decent time dancing with Oliver. There was no way she could ever get other boys to dance with her at parties, especially not Neville. She did not take him for the dancing type.

"You like this move?" Oliver smiled as he performed the Macarena.

"You are literally just doing the normal moves to the song," she laughed.

"But with a twist!"

She gave him a strange look. "I'm still waiting for the twist."

At the part of the song where the participants jump ninety degrees and face another wall, Oliver jumped into the air, spun in a complete circle and landed in the correct direction. He glanced over his shoulder to see Lenore's amused face.

"Son!" a middle-aged man next to Oliver yelled. "I like your moves."

"Thanks!" the boys shouted.

"Are you an athlete?"

"I play… football for my school," he said vaguely.

The song ended just as the man said, "You've got moves like a footballer! Have fun with your girlfriend!" He gave Oliver a lingering squeeze on his shoulder and walked towards the buffet.

Lenore and Oliver made eye contact. "That… was weird," Oliver said.

"I think he was hitting on you," Lenore giggled.

Oliver searched for the man, but he was gone. "Well, should I go get his number?"

She smiled. "I didn't know John Candy was your type."

"He did look a bit like him, didn't he?"

Lenore was grateful he understood her reference to the _Uncle Buck_ actor. It was rare for wizards to appreciate her references. Oliver, however, was a halfblood, like her, and he had the same exposure to pop culture. If she had said that to either Seamus or Katie, both halfbloods, they would not have understood.

When the next song, "September" by Earth Wind & Fire played over the speakers, she allowed Oliver to take her hands and lead her in a disco move. Dean's sisters danced under their linked arms. Lenore's eyes met his, and for the first time in her life, she noticed how attractive Oliver really was. Fit body, wonderful smile, full lips, bright blue eyes, and a thick head of dark hair. Right now, she almost wished she had snogged him at that party a month and a half ago. She broke her eyes away from his and instantly remembered how shitty he had treated her in the past. Calling her a "last resort" and drunkenly kissing her without her permission were not offenses she could soon forget. But Merlin, did he look good tonight. The DJ shifted the music to a slow song and Lenore decided to make her escape.

"Gotta go, bye!" Lenore said, before Oliver could try anything. She sprinted over to chat with her mother and Shea McClain and hopefully steal a few sips of wine.

"Margaux!" Ellie shouted. "Dance with Dean!"

Margaux immediately looked up at her fellow Gryffindor.

"Oh, no, El, I don't think Dean would like that."

"Yes!" Ellie pushed her. "That's what boys and girls are supposed to do."

Margaux wanted to argue that it did not have to be a boy and a girl, it could be anyone, but the child's hands pushing her legs distracted her. She cringed and took one of Dean's hands. He gulped and placed his other hand on her back. They began dancing rather unromantically.

"It's like Danny and Sandy!" Camila announced.

"I'd much rather be Rizzo and Kenickie," Margaux muttered.

"Oh completely," Dean said. "They were a much better couple."

Margaux smiled. "I know! Danny and Sandy have all this drama and they were whiny— yuck. Rizzo and Kenickie are smart and funny."

"I've got chills," Dean said.

Margaux glanced at his body. "Do you not feel well?"

"No," Dean laughed, "I was singing."

"Oh! They're multiplying."

"And I'm losing control," Dean continued.

"Cuz' the power you're supplying," Margaux said.

"It's... not actually all that strong."

Margaux gave him a strange look and giggled. "You'll know all the lyrics sooner or later."

"Oh," Dean said, "I mostly do. My mind is a constantly source of pain and _Grease_ lyrics."

"That is so emo," Margaux giggled.

"Where is my red under eyeliner?" Dean asked. "Did I forget to wear it today?"

"And your fingerless gloves, you forgot those, too."

Dean tapped his finger all across Margaux's back, in an attempt to pretend to search for his nonexistent gloves. But he quickly realized how weird that probably was to Margaux.

"Sorry," he grimaced.

"Don't worry about it," Margaux waved off. "It would have been funny if you didn't make it awkward."

"I have a feeling this won't be the only awkward event this evening," Dean said.

And he was correct. Within the next hour, his sister had decided to enter him and Margaux into the karaoke competition. After a truly beautiful rendition of a country song by one of Lucy's tattooed friends, the DJ called out "Next up… Dean and Margaux!"

Margaux's lips froze as she sipped on her drink. "What?" she said to Dean.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he looked shocked.

"SURPRISE!" Camila shouted. "WE ENTERED YOU TWO!"

Margaux buried her face in her palms.

"Dean and Margaux," the DJ repeated, "come up to the stage!"

Reluctantly, the pair made their way up to stage. Margaux leaned over the DJ booth and whispered, "Look, can we not do this?"

"Oi, look here, I've got the song cued up and everything," the chav DJ said, moving his arms with much greater motion than was needed to convey his message.

"What song?" Margaux asked.

"'Don't Go Breaking' My Heart' by Elton."

Dean sighed. "They listen to that stupid song all the time."

"So, are you doing it or not?" the DJ crossed his arms.

"We'll do it," Margaux stated.

"WHAT?" Dean shouted. It was so loud, the microphone picked up the sound and projected it across the room.

"You be Kiki, I'll be Elton," Margaux said.

"I'm the girl?" Dean protested.

Margaux handed him a microphone and climbed on stage. Dean followed her up and looked at the karaoke screen. He began to shake, so he looked at Margaux. She smiled at him so beautifully, he nearly forgot he was on stage in front of over three hundred people. The music slowly faded in. A few beats, and then Margaux belted out, "Don't go breakin' my heart!"

She pointed to Dean.

"I couldn't if I tried," he half sang-half spoke.

The audience cheered wildly.

"Honey, if I get restless," Margaux sang.

Dean forced himself to sing, "Baby, you're not that kind."

They the first chorus, Dean had loosened up considerably. He had to admit, he had heard this song so many times, he knew how to sing it. Margaux was impressed with his singing voice. She had no idea he could sing so well. The pair bounced around on stage, as the audience yelped and danced along.

"What the bloody hell are they doing?" Tim Henry asked his new dorky dad friend Mark McClain.

"I don't know," Mark replied, "but they are doing Elton justice."

Tim was momentarily distracted from being scandalized at his daughter singing a love song with a boy when he launched into a story about a terrible cover of "Rocket Man" he heard in Liverpool back during his university days.

As the final words scrolled across the screen, Margaux's arms shot across Dean and she gave him a warm hug. He was close enough to smell her flowery scented hair product and feel every curve of her body against his own. Needless to say, that was the highlight of his night. Immediately after their song, the DJ launched into a Ricky Martin song that kept the crowd pumped. After that song, the DJ announced the wedding cake would be brought out. The bride's mother wheeled out a large five tiered cake covered in white icing and purple flowers.

"You made that?" Margaux asked Dean.

He nodded, still a bit embarrassed.

"Dean! It's so good! Holy shit. I can't believe you did that."

"Thanks," he said softly.

"I'll see if tastes as good as it looks," she smiled.

"It should taste great, because everyone here is wasted."

Within seconds, Lenore and Oliver walked past them, each holding a slice of cake. "Dean, this is good cake!" Lenore complimented.

"Len, how the hell did you get cake?" Margaux demanded. "They literally just cut it thirty seconds ago."

Lenore took her fork out of her mouth to pointed it at her sister. "I mostly use my Slytherin ambition and cunningness to gain access to food."

She continued walking towards the table with her slice of cake, until she felt Oliver touch her arm. He flashed her a bright, innocent smile. "You wanna go outside? Get some fresh air?"

Hesitantly, she agreed. It was starting to get hot inside. The pair sat outside on the venue porch and ate their vanilla cake. A gentle breeze tapered around their legs, which swung lazily over the side of the wooden porch. They sat only centimeters from each other.

"Have I ever told you about the time I played Gobstones with Professor Flitwick?"

"What?" she laughed. "You play games with your Head of House?"

"Who, Fil? Oh yeah, he's a cool guy. He comes into the common room sometimes and challenges us to a game of Gobstones. The man is an absolute ledge when it comes to that stuff. He competes in tournaments on the weekends."

Lenore sat wide eyed. "No bloody way."

"Believe it! He challenged me to a game and I accepted. It wasn't looking good for me toward the end. I was covered in goo and I was down five points. At the last possible second, Flitwick's wrist cramped up and he hit my gobstones into the five point region. We were tied, then, each only needing one point to win. In one swift motion, I knock my gobstone forward and Flitwick's flies backwards, covering him in green goo and crowning me the champion. The room went wild."

"Wild?" Lenore laughed. "For Gobstones?"

"I don't think you understand," Oliver said. "We take this game seriously. I was hoisted onto people's shoulders."

Lenore gave him the strangest look, but continued laughing. "That is the lamest thing I've ever heard."

"Don't hate, Henry."

"Well, then, I wouldn't be a Slytherin, would I?"

"You can't get out of this with that excuse. I'd say our houses have the most in common. Smart, clever, brotherhood, we've both got our share of those."

She nodded. "I'll go with that."

Oliver merely smiled. "So… do you still hate me?"

"I never hated you," she said. "You just make me mad."

"Do I still make you mad?"

"Yes."

His face fell. Lenore smiled, "I'm just kidding! You Ravenclaws don't understand sarcasm very well, do you?"

Oliver slowly asked, "So, you do like me?"

Lenore grew uneasy. What kind of 'like' was he referring to?

"You're fine."

Oliver stared at her weirdly and did not say anything. Did he mistake her tone in the word 'fine?" Oh god, what if he thought 'fine' as in attractive? He would not stop staring at her in silence. His lips parted as he watched her blink.

"Is anything wrong?" Lenore asked.

Oliver said quietly, "You are so beautiful."

Lenore stiffened. "Okay." She immediately cringed. "Sorry, I guess I mean thanks?"

"Really," he said, "I'm not just saying that."

"Why would you 'just say it'?"

Lenore noticed Oliver leaning in dangerously close to her face. When he got within a few centimeters, she tilted back. "Wait," Lenore said, "I… I don't fancy you."

That was the only excuse she could think of.

"You don't have to fancy somebody to kiss them," Oliver pointed out.

Lenore thought a moment. She could not do this to Neville. But why not? It's not like they were dating. But even if they were not committed, she felt attached to him. She would feel guilty. She had feelings for Neville, not Oliver. More importantly, she could not do this to herself.

Before she could answer with a firm no, Oliver leaned in and kissed her on her lips. It was not a bad kiss, a little wet, but not bad, however, she did not return the movement. Lenore let him kiss her for about five seconds, then she pulled away.

"I fancy somebody else," she said quickly. "I can't do this."

Oliver turned bright red. "Oh, okay. I'm sorry. Sorry, for doing this," he clarified, "not sorry that you fancy somebody." He winced.

Lenore wanted to run away. Guilt washed over her. If Neville had seen this, it would have broken his heart, she just knew it. It nearly broke her heart. No… it did not break her heart. It made her angry. She told him to wait and he still kissed her. She did not like not being in control. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Until her eyes met Oliver's. He watched her so carefully, waiting for her to say something. At once, she softened, more from exhaustion than sympathy.

"Oliver," she asked suspiciously, "do you fancy me? Or do you just want to snog me?"

"I… I mean, I do fancy you," he fiddled with his hands.

Lenore stared at the boy's face for what felt like a long time, not thinking of anything particular, but merely with confusion. He knew she did not like him. Why did he keep pressing the issue? Why hadn't he run away in embarrassment, like the assumed most boys would have done?

"Say something," he begged.

Lenore took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Oliver, I just don't think it would work out. We want different things."

Oliver tilted his head. "Yeah…"

"I wish I felt the same way, but—"

"But there's another guy," Oliver interrupted, his tone much sharper than before.

Lenore sucked her lips in and nodded, a bit taken back at his flash of anger.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"I-I can't tell you."

Oliver searched her face. She wanted him to stop looking at her. She felt grossed out that he thought she was beautiful. She wanted to cover her face in mud and spray herself with a skunk to keep him away from her. Unlike her sister, she hated attention from boys, especially boys of Oliver's type.

At once, Oliver's mouth fell open. "It's Longbottom. You fancy Longbottom."

"No!" Lenore gasped. How did he know? She began to panic. "Stop guessing!"

"You do!" Oliver said. "Oh, Norie, you're too good for that git. Why would you want him when you could have me?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Oliver stated, as if it were a fact, "I'm loads more attractive than him."

"I knew it," Lenore said, scooting away from him, "I knew you were an absolute dickhead."

"I'm just telling the truth!" Oliver said. "I play quidditch for Merlin's sake, I'm fit! Longbottom looks like he fell off a train. Stammers like the sound of a train engine, too."

"Go fuck yourself." Lenore angrily rose up, but Oliver stood and grabbed her arm.

"Lenore," he leaned in close to her face. "You're making a mistake."

She glared at him, his eyes only a few centimeters from hers. "My only mistake was giving you a second chance."

She pulled away but Oliver grabbed her waist. "Lenore!"

"Let me go!"

"Listen to me a minute," he said sharply.

Lenore paused.

"You're too fit for Longbottom. You deserve someone who can satisfy you. I will satisfy you, Lenore."

"Shut up, Oliver! Let me go!"

"That inbred orphan—"

Lenore screamed and kneed Oliver in the stomach. He dropped his hands from her body and she took the opportunity to run back inside. Rage boiled up inside her. She should have punched Oliver. He was such a cunt and thinking about the exchange only made her madder. Even if she did not fancy Neville, the words still would have enraged her. Who was Oliver to decided he was better looking than another person? He had a shitty attitude and a boring personality. Lenore searched the room for somewhere to escape Oliver. The party was hopping by this point.

"Lenore!" Margaux shouted to her. "Come dance! I just requested 'Ice Ice Baby!'"

Within seconds, Lenore's feet blindly found their way to the dance floor with Dean and Margaux.

"Watch this," Margaux said to Dean, "and be amazed.

When the 80s song that had been playing came to an end, the DJ honored Margaux's request and put on the Vanilla Ice song. A few other trashy people perked their heads up and joined the center of the room. Lenore and Margaux put on their best hillbilly American accent and yelled along to every lyric of the song. Lenore's mind cleared of anger and she focused her full attention to screaming the song. Dean laughed at how awful this was.

"You wanna see the dance routine we came up with when we were younger?" Lenore asked.

"Sure," Dean smiled.

They sisters waited for the song to drop into the final verse, and they shouted so loudly Dean could hardly make out the words. On each word, they changed dance moves, from shoulder sweeps to little jigs to Margaux throwing her leg over Lenore, who crouched down.

"This is bloody terrible," Dean laughed. "I've never heard this song in my life."

Margaux looked genuinely offended. "Hang around us some more and you'll hear this song as least once a week."

"I will," Dean grinned.

As Lenore stood up from the ground, she gasped. "Wait! What is today?"

"The thirtieth?" Dean said.

"It's Neville's birthday, right?"

"Yeah," Dean said, "I owl'ed him a card yesterday."

"Oh shit," Lenore said. "Shit shit shit. I've got to call him."

Her stomach tied in knots. Neville always treated her so wonderfully, and she never seemed able to return the kindness properly. Just today, she kissed another guy and forgot his birthday. She hurried over to her mother's purse and stole Clair's mobile phone. The time, eleven-thirty p.m., flashed across the screen in giant white font. She hesitated, debating whether or not this would make Neville's neighbor Vickie Dubinsky angry. She pressed the number buttons anyway. Within a few rings, Vickie picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she said brightly.

In the background, Lenore could hear the sound of upbeat music thumping.

"Hi, Mrs. Dubinsky!" Lenore attempted to appear as cheerful as possible. "This is Lenore Henry."

"Oh Lenore!" Vickie chirped. "How are you, sweetie? Is everything okay?"

"Yes! I'm fine. I hope I'm not disturbing you. Today is Neville's birthday, and I… kind of forgot to do something for it."

" _Jerry!_ " Vickie laughed away from the phone.

Lenore heard a man's voice whisper something in the background. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"I'll go get him! _Jerry,_ " Vickie said as she set the phone down, " _go to the kitchen and be quiet. The neighbor boy is coming over for a few moments._ "

Mrs. Dubinsky returned about four minutes later with Neville. He picked up the phone and set it to his ear. "Hello?"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Lenore shouted.

Neville beamed. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew," she said. "I just wanted to be the last one to tell you."

"You never want to be the last of anything," Neville laughed. "Admit it, you forgot."

"I did. But then I remembered, so I get some credit. HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE SIXTEEN?"

"The same, if not worse."

Lenore giggled. "That's how it works."

"Where are you?" Neville asked. "I hear music."

"I'm at a wedding! Dean is here too, actually."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "No way."

Lenore ran over to the center of the dance floor and shoved the phone in Dean's hand. "HEY MATE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

"Thanks, mate!"

Lenore put the phone back to her ear and walked outside. She glanced to the spot where Oliver had kissed her and quickly turned her back.

"What are you doing at the same wedding?" Neville asked. "It's not Dean and Margaux's, right?"

Lenore laughed. "He wishes. And besides, you think he wouldn't have made you an usher? No, our moms have a mutual friend from their book club."

"Sounds wild," he said sarcastically.

Lenore listened to the shaking walls of the wedding venue as some country song blasted from the speakers. "Neville, it actually is insane. This is trashiest wedding I have ever been to," she giggled.

"It's a muggle wedding?"

"That's rude!" she laughed.

"No!" he said quickly. "That was a question."

"Oh," she smiled. "Yeah, it is."

"I figured."

"Now I can be offended," she said.

Neville laughed. "Is it fun at least?"

"It's…" Lenore thought a moment. So far, the wedding was kind of a rollercoaster of emotion. As long as she did not have to see Oliver again, it would probably be a decent time. "It's not bad. Did you have a fun birthday?"

"Yeah," he said, "it was good."

"What did you do?"

"N-not much. Luna and Ginny stopped by for about an hour to tell me happy birthday in person. Gran made a cake and my great uncle and aunt came over. That's about it."

"What about Dean and Seamus?"

"Dean had to go to that wedding and Seamus is on holiday. We're going somewhere next week to celebrate."

Lenore did not think that sounded like a very good birthday. It was actually kind of sad. She was glad he got to see some of his friends, however. "I should have done something," she said. "But I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"You called," Neville said. "That means the world to me."

Lenore was quiet a moment. She thought out her words carefully, then decided not to say them. She did not want to reveal her emotions to Neville just yet. But the silence was killing her. She had to say something but all she could think of was her dumb statement. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "I miss you."

Silence hung over the telephone line. Lenore held her breath as Neville processed her words.

"You... you miss me?"

"Yeah," she whispered. She thought back to her kiss with Oliver and her self-loathing intensified. "I miss talking to you."

"I miss you, too," he exhaled. "Q-quite a bit."

Her grin radiated throughout her entire body. "I'm really sorry I forgot about your birthday. Really. You mean a lot to me. You're one of my closest friends and I should have remembered."

"It's okay!" he assured her. "Don't worry. You called. That's more than enough."

She was silent. "Thanks, Nev. You're so sweet to me."

"I-I hope I am."

"You are," she nearly whispered. "I'm glad you— Neville! Oh my god! I almost forgot! Mrs. Dubinsky has a man over!"

"What?" Neville asked.

Lenore could hear his head swivel in search of the man. "He's in the kitchen," she said. "His name is Jerry."

"No," Neville whispered. "She can't. She's like sixty-five. Are you sure?"

"Neville, there is mood music playing. I can hear it. Are the lights dimmed?"

He peered into the living room. "Oh my god, you're right."

"You are cockblocking them."

"You are the one who decided to call this late," he laughed. "I need to get out of here."

"Alright," Lenore grinned. "Happy birthday again. We'll do something for it, even if it is belated. I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner."

"No, it's fine. Belated sounds great."

She was relieved he did not hate her for forgetting. "Call me," she said.

"I-I will."

"I mean it," she teased.

"I promise, I will," he said. "I can call you this week, when you're done with work, and we'll just sit here and chat."

"That sounds great," she smiled. "Goodnight, Nev."

"Goodnight, Len. Thanks again."

"No problem. At all. Goodnight."

"Night."

Lenore hung up the phone and returned to the dance floor inside, her stomach reeling and her eyes filled with unexplainable tears.


	19. Chapter 19: Dean Strikes Out

"Bye, family!" Margaux called as she bounded down the staircase.

Her hand just barely grazed the front doorknob, when her father asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out with muggle friends. I talked to mom about it."

Clair set her romance novel down on her lap and gave her husband a knowing glance. "Don't worry, Tim, she's not going out with boys."

"How do you know?" Tim asked.

Clair got a haughty look on her face. "Because she hasn't shaved her legs in over two weeks."

Margaux glanced down to her legs, which were covered in jeans. "How did you know I hadn't shaved?"

"You waved them all around yesterday saying 'Look how long my hair is!'" Clair said, moving her own legs for effect.

Margaux folded her arms. "How do you know I haven't shaved since then?"

An impish grin spread across Lenore's face. "Because we didn't hear the sound of the chainsaw."

"Goodbye."

Margaux slammed the door to the sound of her family choking on laughter. It really was a good joke, but she was not in the mood to be made teased. She strolled over three blocks to the roundabout halfway to the downtown. Across the grassy circle stood Michael's blue house with white shutters. She knocked on the front door. Michael's parents did not appear to be home, as their cars were not parked on the street. The front door swung open and Michael greeted her with a warm smile. "Hi, Mar!"

"Hi, 'Mikey," she smiled.

He laughed. "Whoa, where did Mikey come from?"

"I forgot to tell you the last few times we hung out, I ran into a couple of your mates a while back. Charlie and some kid who works as a pizza deliver boy."

"Rami?"

"Maybe," Margaux said. "He had dark hair, dark eyes, works for Domino's. Friends with Charlie I would guess."

"That's Rami. How'd you meet them?"

"I was babysitting for one of my mates from my school's mum. I had no idea he lived over here, but our moms are friends, so that's how I got the babysitting gig. Charlie is his neighbor and they're friends. He came over and hung out while I babysat my mate's sisters. Then, Rami delivered a pizza and we talked for a bit."

"Sounds fun!" Michael said. "You said you've got a friend from your school in this neighborhood?"

"Yep!"

"Why don't you invite him along today?"

Margaux hesitated. "Oh, I'm not sure…"

"Come on," Michael prodded. "You've met my friends. It's only fair I meet one of yours."

"I… suppose I can invite him."

"Great! Wanna walk over there? I'll call Kunal and Heather and tell them to meet us on Charlie's street. They know where he lives."

"Sure…"

Margaux still was not sure about inviting Dean. Would he act weird? He seemed uncomfortable when she told him she had a boyfriend. And showing up to his house uninvited? That could be strange. As they walked, Michael discussed his swim training and asked her questions about her day, but her mind was preoccupied with Dean. Merlin, she hoped this would not be weird.

She knocked on his front door. To her surprise, Dean's sister Camila opened the door.

"MARGAUX!" the little girl gasped. Her arms flung around her babysitter.

"DID YOU SAY MARGAUX?" Ellie shouted.

Soon enough, four children clung to Margaux's legs and waist. "Hi girls!" Margaux laughed. "How are you all?"

The girls all began talking at once. Camila shouted about her good grade in math. Ellie yelled about her new dress. Vivi announced she had a new friend. Bella just yelled in general about everything. Margaux's ears deafened to the surrounding noise of four little girls.

"What is going on?" Dean emerged from the hallway. His eyes grew wide and his stomach fluttered. "Margaux?"

"Hi, Dean!" she smiled.

"Hi!" he returned the smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I was wondering if you would want to go bowling with us today?"

Dean moved closer to the door and said, "Who is 'us?'"

A short, but incredibly fit boy stepped up onto the porch. "Michael Sanders."

He stuck out his hand and Dean reached over his sisters to shake his palm. "Dean Thomas." He surveyed Michael. So, this was her boyfriend. Dean immediately grew jealous. Michael was fit. He had more muscles than Dean, a brighter smile, maybe even fewer blemishes. Dean's hair was better though. He took pride in the fact that Michael's hairline was already faintly receding. He combed his bangs slightly over to hide it, but within ten years, it would be highly noticeable. Dean shook the thoughts from his head. He could not be this mean already in the evening.

"You wouldn't be the only one with us," Margaux said. "Don't worry about being a third wheel. Michael's friends Heather and Kunal are also going bowling with us."

"DID SOMEONE SAY BOWLING?"

Michael and Margaux spun around to see Charlie bounding up the sidewalk to greet them.

"Charlie!" Michael beamed.

"Mikey!" They gave each other an intricate handshake and Charlie said, "What are you lot up to?"

"Well, since I know you're going to invite yourself anyway," Michael said, "want to come bowling with us?"

"Sure!" the boy said brightly. "Better than sitting on my front porch. How are we getting there?"

"Kunal Krishnamurthy is driving us, along with his girlfriend Heather Lloyd."

"Kunal! What a ledge!" he gushed about the boy his own age.

"Great!" Michael turned to Dean. "So, are you in?"

Dean nodded. "Do I have time to change?"

"Yeah!" Michael said. "You've got until Kunal pulls up."

"No doubt Heather is making him late," Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Charlie," Margaux said, "you don't even know if they are late. You don't know the original time."

"Well, are they late?"

"Yes, but that's not the point."

Dean smiled and hurried upstairs. He could hear his sisters chattering away to Margaux, along with his mother's voice drifting from the front door. Dean donned a pair of dark wash jeans, a blue long sleeve button down, and brown shoes. After finding his wallet, he kissed his mum goodbye, peeled his sisters off Margaux, and shut the front door. Kunal had gotten out of the car to greet Charlie, while Heather sat in the front seat fiddling with the radio until she landed on some indie rock station.

Michael graciously allowed Margaux to have the seatbelt as the four teens illegally piled into the backseat.

"Charlie," Kunal said, "you're gonna have to duck down the entire ride. I'm not getting stopped by the police."

"Goddamn it, why don't you just stuff me in the trunk?" he said.

"Hop out then," Heather said as she pulled the lever that popped the trunk open.

Kunal sighed and got out of the car to close the trunk, as Charlie wedged himself between Dean's legs. Margaux slid over to the middle seat and buckled up. As they drove, Charlie said, "Well fuck, I should have chosen Michael's side to sit."

"Why?" Michael asked.

"Dean's legs are fucking everywhere! He's probably got nearly a foot on you, Mikey!"

"Hey," Margaux said, "do you just hang out on your porch waiting for something to happen so you can invite yourself and then complain about it?"

Charlie laughed. "For your information, sweetie, I was waiting for my mum to get home from bingo so I could get in the house. She locked all the bloody windows on me."

"Bingo?" Margaux smiled. "What's she doing at bingo on a weekday evening?"

"Probably fucking Heather's dad in his car out back."

Heather's palm swiftly collided with Charlie's head. "How much does she charge?"

"How much has your dad got?"

Margaux sat wide-eyed, her lips pressed tightly together.

"What's wrong?" Charlie asked. "You don't call your parents slags?"

"No," Margaux said slowly. "My parents have been married nearly twenty years."

"Fuck you and your happily married parents," Charlie announced.

Heather smiled. "Yeah, fuck 'em!"

They both gave Margaux playful glances, so she knew they were not serious. "I can't be the only one with happily married parents," she said.

"My parents were happy for a while," Michael said. "Until dad moved into his own bedroom."

"My parents were happy, until my dad left with no explanation," Dean said.

"My parents are happy," said Kunal. "Married twenty-five years, so everyone shut the fuck up and let Margaux live."

Michael took Margaux's hand with a smile. She returned the gesture and squeezed his hand. Heather turned up volume on the music dial. A bouncy Beck song played through the speakers next to Charlie's ear. He screeched and attempted to hop into the front seat and quiet down the music. Heather merely sang over him and slapped his hand away. Kunal parked at the bowling alley across town. Charlie, instead of waiting for everyone else to get out, tucked and rolled out onto the car park asphalt.

"Ouch!" he shouted. He brushed pieces of broken glass off his clothed shoulder.

Margaux laughed. "If you had just waited…"

"You try riding down there for fifteen minutes and tell me you aren't ready to immediately roll out," he smiled.

The six teens entered the dark bowling alley, filled with adults drinking heavily, a few other young people eating chips, the sound of the heavy balls colliding with pins, and the smell of cigarette smoke, despite the ban. A friendly woman at the counter greeted them by asking for their shoe sizes and trading in their street shoes for red and white block-patterned bowling shoes. She began punching numbers into the cash register. "You'll pay for the shoes now and the games after. You trade in your receipt for your shoes later."

"Sounds good," Michael said. The woman rang up their purchases.

"And will we be taking three couples discounts today?" the woman asked Dean and Charlie.

The boys made eye contact. At the same time, Dean said "No," while Charlie said, "Yes."

Charlie glared at Dean and said, "Babe, we've talked about this." He turned to the woman. "Yes, please. Three couples here."

"Alright," the woman smiled. "Couples discount gives you rent one, get one free shoes. That'll be three pounds to each couple, please."

Michael and Kunal unfolded their wallets as Dean and Charlie remained still.

"Aren't you going to get it, babe?" Dean smiled wickedly.

"Oh, but babe, I got the last date."

"No, you didn't, babe."

Charlie glanced between Dean and the woman. "Alright, babe, I'll be the man of the relationship, AGAIN."

"That's incredibly homophobic, babe."

Margaux bit her lip to stop herself from absolutely losing it.

"Want to go to the bathroom with me?" Heather grabbed Margaux's wrist, which took her attention away from the dumb boys.

"Sure," Margaux said. She never broke the unspoken rule that girls go to bathrooms together. Heather led her into the bathroom, no doubt where the scent of smoke originated from. As the entered the door, Margaux noticed Heather limping.

"Why are you walking like that?" Margaux asked, as the girls took their place in front of the mirror.

"You wanna know the truth?" the girl pulled Margaux closer.

Margaux nodded. Heather scanned her up and down. "Okay, I'll tell you, because I trust you."

After checking the bathroom for any noise of people, she decided it was empty. She sat on the sink counter gingerly and whispered, "I was with Kunal and things were getting… serious. So, he's inside of me—"

Margaux's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "WHAT?"

"Inside of me!" Heather repeated. She snapped her fingers. "Keep up! And we're going at it. In the heat of everything, he slips and accidentally slams his cock into my asshole. Now, honey, I don't want to judge your life, but I'm going to guess you've never had a cock in your arsehole?"

Margaux shook her head vigorously.

"Don't ever," Heather waved her arms in emphasis. "Imagine your mortal soul leaving your body, passing through a barbed wire fence, and then being set on fire. It is excruciating. I woke up this morning and my arsehole was bleeding."

Margaux held in a laugh. It really was a hilarious story, despite being a lot of information at once. "Did you put some cream on it or something?"

"I'm not touching it," she said firmly.

"I bet Neosporin would help."

"Like I said, I'm not touching it. But speaking of willys, how's it going with you and Michael?" she grinned.

"Oh," Margaux shook her head, "not as great as accidentally having anal."

Heather punched her shoulder and laughed. "You hen! You know what I mean."

Margaux shrugged. "It's casual. We are _not_ going to be having sex. We've just kissed a few times and made out twice."

Heather grinned. "Good for you! You take control. I waited a bit to have sex with Kunal, too. It worked out great."

Margaux did not want to say she did not plan on ever getting that close to Michael. They were not even sixteen for another few months, for godssake. This was casual and most likely, it was a summer fling. Margaux merely nodded.

"Okay!" Heather said. "Now what I really came in here for!"

She jumped off the counter and slammed the bathroom stall door. "To check for blood on my arsehole."

Margaux laughed. Heather was so funny. Margaux's friends at Hogwarts were all rather innocent. Sure, Ginny had dated Michael Corner and Derek had made out with some boys, but none of them ever discussed sex or bleeding assholes, or anything like that. Hogwarts was an entirely different world, it seemed. Sure, people had sex all the time, but it was much more hushed. Nobody openly talked about it. Well, none of her friends at least. It seemed to her like Lenore's roommates were not shy about it, but her own certainly were.

Heather and Margaux rejoined the boys at lane number ten. They divided into their three teams, with each person on the team alternating turns. First up was Margaux, who knocked over eight out of ten pins. Dean claimed to be particularly adept at bowling and he did indeed manage a spare. Heather bowled gingerly, whispering to Margaux afterwards, "Good news, the movement doesn't hurt."

Michael bowled on the same athletic level as Margaux, making them a good team. However, next up are Charlie.

"Hey you lot, watch this!"

Nothing good ever came from that phrase. Sure enough, Charlie arched his back, lifted the bowling ball back, swung his arm and released his fingers. The ball flew backwards. Dean yanked Margaux out of the ball's trajectory, while Heather jumped back. Dean removed his hand from Margaux's arm when her eyes met his.

"What the hell was that?" Kunal laughed.

"Sorry!" Charlie jogged backwards and retrieved his ball. "Must have slipped."

"Slipped, my arse!" Kunal said.

At once, Heather and Margaux made eye contact and burst out laughing. Kunal gave them a strange look. Charlie threw his ball down the lane again, but it flew straight into the gutter.

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean muttered.

"What was that, Thomas?" Charlie asked, cupping his hand around his ear.

"I thought you said you were good at bowling!"

Charlie shook out his arm. "I must be a be rusty."

"More than rusty, you're completely worthless!"

Charlie smiled. "Don't worry, don't worry, I'll get better."

Except, he did not. On his next turn, he slipped on the slick threshold and fell on his arse. Kunal had to help Charlie up, because each time he tried to stand, he slipped back into the lane. After Kunal, Margaux lined up her shot, rolled the ball down the lane, and missed every single pin when the ball fell into the gutter at the last second.

"Merlin's beard!" Margaux said as she stomped her foot.

She turned around to retrieve her ball from the dispenser and noticed everyone staring at her strangely, except for Dean, who had a huge grin on his face. She clasped her hand over her mouth.

"What the fuck was that?" Charlie asked.

"It's something we say at boarding school," Dean laughed. "It's an inside joke."

"What does it mean?" asked Heather.

Dean spoke quickly to cover up her transgression. "It's like a cuss word. Like 'oh fuck.' I forget exactly where it came from, no doubt some stupid book for something, but we all say it."

Margaux shot him a grateful glance.

"Weird," Kunal shook his head. "It's like when we say 'take a lap,' because we've got an assistant principal who thinks that solves every problem."

Margaux laughed, but Heather said, "No, really. Just last week, Charlie's brother—"

"Half-brother," he clarified.

Heather rolled her eyes. "He got in a fight and Mr. Jameson made the two of them literally walk a lap around the school. He learned that trick at an educational conference in the 70s and he treats it as gospel."

Margaux laughed and picked up her ball from the dispenser. She took her time with her second shot of the frame. She aimed and let go. She followed the ball down the lane with her eyes. It hit the center pin and knocked every white object down, for a strike. She clapped for herself and gave a light yay. Dean was up next, then Heather, and back to Michael, who also hit a strike. When he returned to his seat, Margaux high-fived him. Charlie plunged the ball deep into the gutter, Dean sighed loudly into his hands. Kunal hit a spare and Heather gave him a short kiss. Margaux stepped up for her team's turn.

"If you get another strike, it'll be a turkey," Michael said.

"That's a lot of pressure," she smiled.

"You can do it, luv."

Dean frowned. Margaux inserted her fingers into her bright green sparkling bowling ball, took a deep breath, and hurled the ball down the lane. With great force, it struck all the pins, knocking them over for the team's third strike.

"Alright!" Michael shouted. "Good job, babe!"

The next round flew by, Michael managed another strike, which Charlie proclaimed as cheating. Dean leaned over the Margaux and whispered in her ear, "You aren't using magic, are you?"

"No," she laughed. "I swear, we're just this good."

Charlie managed to hit two pins and received a fist bump from Dean. Kunal hit a strike and everyone cheered. Margaux's turn rolled around again. She placed her fingers inside the ball, lined up her shot, took a couple practice swings, and finally decided she was ready. She took deep breath and sent the ball flying down the lane with such force it shocked even her. The ball hit every single pin, causing them to jump into the air.

Margaux screamed. She spun around and flung herself into the first person behind her's arms. In this case, it was Dean, getting ready for his turn up next. Dean gasped as he felt her gentle hands touch his back, like they did while slow dancing at the wedding. She pulled away almost immediately and laughed, "SORRY! I thought you were Michael!"

Dean released the breath he had been holding as Margaux sprinted over to Michael. He eyed Dean suspiciously, but opened his arms for Margaux. Margaux kissed him on the lips, which made Dean's stomach clench. He tore his eyes away, picked up his bowling ball, and threw it so awfully that it flew into the gutter.

"AH HA!" Charlie said. "I'm not the only bad one on this team!"

Dean smiled weakly, but he noticed Margaux still holding on to Michael. He sat down next to Charlie in silence. The couple finally managed to take their hands off each other when Michael's turn came around. To Dean's satisfaction, Michael ended his team's strike streak. The gang finished out that round of bowling, with Michael and Margaux reigning supreme. The next game, Heather and Kunal won. Dean carried his team into third place each time. The group decided that was enough bowling for the evening. The alley would be closing in twenty minutes, which was not enough time for another game, and besides, the atmosphere was getting rowdy. When they walked in, the adults were tipsy. By the time they left, nearly the entire group of late-thirty-year-olds was beyond pissed.

The teens decided to gather their shoes from the front counter, however, so did a few of the adults from the group. As they traded in their tickets for their shoes, the woman and her coworker piled the shoes on the counter. They were slow to take their shoes off the counter, as Charlie was currently dancing around with a cue stick from a nearby pool table. As they watched him lip-synch along to "I Wanna Dance With Somebody," which blasted over the bowling alley speakers, one of the adults began to scream. Margaux felt a brush on her shoulder. One of the younger looking men, clad in a red baseball cap and a Radiohead t-shirt, in the group seized five shoes from the counter and took off running towards the lanes. Heather and Dean shouted along with a few of the people in his group. The man chucked the shoes down the lane and towards the pins, even knocking a few of them over.

"WHAT THE FUCK, JASON?" a woman who appeared to be his girlfriend shouted.

The man named Jason ran back to the group and out the front door, but the woman at the counter was already on the phone with the police. "He hasn't got any keys," his sober girlfriend, and obvious designated driver of the group, said to the woman. "He'll just be out there sitting on the car."

The teenagers surveyed their shoes. Heather, Dean, and Kunal were each missing one shoe. "Well, fuck," Kunal said. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I'm going to get them," said Dean. He jumped down a couple stairs and over to the lanes. He stepped into the gutter carefully, toeing one foot in front of the other until he reached the end of the lane. He captured four shoes, but could not reach the other. He hopped across the lane into the other gutter, grabbed it, and hustled his way back down the gutter. He handed everyone back their shoes, including the drunk adults.

"That was really nice, Dean!" said Heather.

"Thanks, mate!" Kunal agreed.

On their way outside to the car park, they did indeed see the drunk man named Jason sitting on the roof of a blue Toyota compact. The six piled into Kunal's car and made their way across town. "You can just drop us off at Charlie's house," Margaux spoke up over the radio. "It's a good in-between distance. I can't let my parents see me hanging out with boys."

Dean gave her a weird look, but she simply smiled at him. Charlie laid down on the floor this time, no doubt exhausted from a night of physical exercise. Not bowling, more like retrieving his bowling ball from behind him multiple times and dancing with inanimate objects. It was dark by this time, the inside of the car illuminated only with each passing streetlight. Greens, reds, and yellows filled the interior, shining on each person's face as the song Dean recognized from the _Pretty in Pink_ movie prom scene lulled the car into a deep state of relaxation.

Margaux rested her head on Michael's shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. Dean could not hear what the boy was saying, but his words elicited giggles from her every so often. Kunal held Heather's hand as he drove. Charlie closed his eyes. Dean was completely alone in his own little singular world, only his thoughts to keep him company as they rode along the cracked streets in exhausted silence.

Kunal parked the car on the street and allowed the four teens to leave the backseat. With a wave and a bright smile from Heather to Margaux, the pair drove off. Charlie squinted towards his house, which was just barely visible from the yellow glow of a street lamp. "Oh great, mum's sitting on the porch. She must have forgotten to get her keys out of her purse. I've got to go help her in. Bye, mates!" Charlie waved brightly.

"Alright," Margaux said before Dean got the chance to say goodbye. "Your house is north, mine is south, so we should just separate here. I can't have you walking my home, or my parents will see."

"Okay," Michael said. "I guess this is goodnight, then."

Margaux smiled. Michael's arm snaked around to her lower back and gripped her shirt. His other hand held her jaw. She closed the distance between them and kissed him. Dean peeled his eyes away from him. He could hear Margaux giggle quietly, which absolutely shredded his insides apart. He liked her so much and here she was, snogging another boy just three feet from him.

The front door of Dean's house burst open and Margaux must have heard the sound of his sisters clambering down the stairs, because she immediately pulled away from Michael. The four girls hopped on her legs once more, shouting.

"Goodnight," Margaux mouthed to Michael, who waved and gave her a bright smile.

"Aren't you all supposed to be in bed?" she laughed.

"We saw you out the bedroom window and came down!" Camilla said. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"I did!"

"GIRLS!" Shea McClain called from the front door. "GET IN BED THIS INSTANT."

A look of fear struck the girls' eyes and they said goodbye to Margaux and hurried inside. Mrs. McClain gave Margaux a short wave, which she returned and added a smile. Dean's mother closed the door, leaving the two teens alone on the front sidewalk.

"Well, what did you think of the muggles?" she smiled.

Dean returned the grin. "They were funny. Like a bunch of Charlie clones."

"Oh god," Margaux said. "He's a fun guy, though."

"Michael seems like a fun guy," Dean said before he could think.

She nodded. "He is."

"You really like him, don't you?" Dean asked quietly.

She took a while to answer. "I like… having him around."

His raised his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

Margaux shrugged. "I'm not sure I like him so much as I like his company."

"What?" Dean laughed.

But Margaux did not laugh. She seemed nervous. "Fancying someone is scary, don't you think?"

"I mean, I guess it could be. Is it scary to you?"

"Oh hell yeah. What if he doesn't fancy me back? What if he does, but it's an act? What if I get too attached to him? What if he cheats on me? Isn't that all scary?"

Dean nodded. "It is. But you shouldn't worry about those things. He'd be a fool to cheat on you."

"Thanks," she sighed. "But a lot of boys are fools, so that doesn't exactly make me feel better."

"Some aren't. I'd say quite a few aren't. What about your dad? Or my dad? They don't seem like fools."

Margaux looked up at him. "Can I ask you a question about your dad? Your biological dad?"

Dean felt himself tense up. "Yeah, go ahead."

"You definitely don't have to answer if you don't want to. Please, don't feel obligated, at all. Shut me up if I say something wrong or—"

"Mar," he laughed, "it's okay, really."

"What happened to him?"

Dean sucked his cheeks in. Margaux immediately said, "I'm sorry! Forget I asked."

"No!" he said quickly. He took a breath. "My dad ran away. But it was probably to protect my mum. W-we don't know if I'm a half-blood or muggleborn, but we do know my dad was murdered. But... we can't prove he was a wizard. He was adopted and the only people who knew were his adopted parents. This is so complicated..."

"No!" Margaux said. "I'm listening!"

Dean nodded. "His adopted parents died. My dad never told my mum if he was a wizard or not. The secret died with him, if there was one."

"Wait," Margaux said, "you can't just check the Hogwarts records? Or Ministry records?"

"Destroyed," he whispered. "All those records were destroyed by You Know Who during the first war. Only the pureblood families have records nowadays. Nobody can prove he even existed, except for the muggle birth and death certificates. My dad was either a halfblood without a pureblood last name, a muggleborn, or not magical at all. I personally think he was a muggleborn, from what my mom told me. I'm not sure what that makes me. The son of a muggle and a muggleborn. Probably just scum."

"Dean," she said gently.

He shook his head and cracked a smile. "I'm only kidding. But yeah. My dad was a good guy. He must have run away for a good reason, because my mum said it he was a great guy. She loved him and it broke her for a long time. He was killed before the First Wizarding War was over, so I think he died because of that. But there's no proof. For all I know, he could have been a muggle scared to have a baby, ran off, and accidentally been caught up in something bad. Something tells me it's the first one, but we really just don't know."

"Do you remember him?" Margaux asked. "Wait, no. Stupid question. You would've been a baby."

"I never met him," Dean's voice was nearly silent. "He left while my mum was pregnant."

Margaux's mouth dropped open. "Oh wow."

He nodded. "Yep. So... My dad is either a deadbeat or a hero and I'll never know which one."

Margaux stepped closer to him and touched his arm. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"It's alright," he said, glancing down at her hand. "There's no reason to be upset. It doesn't bother me too often."

"That's why the Slytherins call you a... a mudblood," she whispered. "Because they think you're a muggleborn."

"Yeah."

"What do you call yourself?"

He shrugged. "I don't really label myself. Just 'scum.'"

He noticed Margaux's expression and he quickly corrected himself. "I'm kidding!"

Margaux hesitated, then laid her cheek on his upper arm. "Dean, shut up. Don't even joke about that."

He gulped as his stomach flipped. "I-I don't actually think I'm scum."

"If you say it enough, you'll start to believe it. Don't."

"I won't," he whispered. "I promise you."

"What was his name?" Margaux asked quietly.

"David," Dean nearly whispered.

He did not know why he was talking so quietly. Honestly, it did not really bother him much anymore. But for some reason, telling it all to Margaux made him anxious. It felt like such an intimate moment, but it was not, at all.

Margaux picked her cheek up and squeezed his arm. His eyes moved from his elbow to her face. "Thank you for telling me," she said.

She let go of him. "I hope you have a great night."

Dean smiled softly. "I already did."

She grinned. "Goodnight, scum."

He laughed. "Mar!"

"Goodnight, _Dean_!"

He shook his head and laughed. "Goodnight, Mar."


	20. Chapter 20: Drunk on a Carpark

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter! I managed to move out of my dorm, get my wisdom teeth pulled, attend two parties, AND go to Chili's (by far the most rad thing I've done this week), and still post a chapter. PLEASE FOLLOW/FAV AND REVIEW, I APPRECIATE YOU ALL!**

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"I'm telling you, mate, Lenore fancies you!" Dean said.

Neville shook his head. "I think she just wants to be my friend. I-I'm not sure."

"She's in love with you," Seamus chimed in. "She just doesn't know it yet."

The trio of best friends sat down by the lake again, fishing poles in hand, soaking up the rare sun and cool breeze from the water. Neville had just finished telling his mates the story of Lenore hugging him in his bedroom. Dean chipped in his own story about how worried she was when she forgot his birthday.

"I'm going to have to see her around you some more to make sure," Dean said. "But I definitely think she's heading towards fancying you."

Neville shook his head. "You'll have to wait until school starts. I don't want to bother her again."

"BOTHER HER?" Seamus shouted.

"You're going to scare away the fish, mate!" Dean yelled even louder.

"You're not going to bother her," Seamus finished. "We've got a little over two weeks until school starts. That is a normal amount of time to not be bothering someone."

They peered out onto the lake, past the murky water and onto the green mountains in the horizon. Seamus cracked open another can of sweet soda and took a sip. Neville's fishing pole bobbed up and down with a sharp tug. He almost reeled it in, but the pole became still.

"I have an idea," Dean said suddenly. "Triple date."

Neville and Seamus stared at him blankly.

"What is a triple date?" Seamus asked. "Dean, is this some dumb shit you saw on a muggle TV show?"

"Watching _Dawson's Creek_ again?" Neville quipped.

"Hey now!" Dean threw up his hands. " _Dawson's Creek_ is a very well done television show. You would know, you sat in my living room and watched an entire episode with my sisters." Dean quickly trailed off as he was immersed in jaded thoughts of Chuck and Blair's twisted romance. Seamus coughed into his hand something that distinctly sounded like "tosser" and Dean escaped his trance. He spoke once more. "But back to the triple date. Neville and Lenore, myself and Margaux, and Seamus and-"

"KATIE BELL."

"Yes, Merlin, Seamus, I was getting to that. I say we call Lenore up and ask her opinion."

Neville thought a moment. "I don't think she would go for the date idea."

"That's why we don't tell her it's a date, dumbass. We just ask her to hang out and bring her friends."

Neville and Seamus seemed to be mulling it over.

"I'm in," Seamus said. "Anything to see Katie."

They turned towards Neville.

"There's a payphone over there," Dean said gesturing to the rest area of the park. "Do you know Lenore's number?"

"Well, I-"

"Neville, I know you memorized her number as soon as you got it."

"Okay, fine. But let me talk to her first."

The trio left their fishing poles dangling in the water and crowded around the payphone. "I have no idea how to use this thing," Neville said, tangling himself up in the cord.

"Me neither," Seamus said.

"Merlin H. Wizard," Dean muttered, grabbing the phone from Neville. He put in a few muggle coins and dialed as Neville recited the numbers.

After a few moments of ringing, a voice said "Hello?"

"H-hi, Lenore," Neville said. He still stammered when he talked to her. He wished he could stop, but he just got so nervous that he forgot how to think.

"Oh, hi Nev!"

"Nev," Seamus whispered in a loving tone. "Nev, I love you. Fuck me, Nev, please!"

"Shut the fuck up Seamus or you'll never get your chance with Katie," Dean hissed and punched him. Seamus quickly shut his mouth.

"How are you, Len?"

"I'm good! Katie's at my house right now."

"Perfect," Seamus said, his face lighting up with a boyish grin.

"Is someone there with you?" Lenore asked Neville, her voice sounding confused.

Dean punched Seamus even harder than before.

"Yeah, I'm at the lake with Dean and Seamus."

"Hi," they said reluctantly in unison.

"Hey guys," she said. She tried pressing the phone to her shirt so she could talk to Katie semi-privately, but it did not work. "It's Neville. He's with Dean and Seamus." She returned the phone to her ear. "I thought you were using a different telephone. This number is unknown. I almost didn't answer. So, what do you guys want?"

"Well," Dean said, grabbing the phone, "we actually have a proposition for you."

Lenore raised her eyebrows. "Go on."

"How would you, Margaux, and Katie like to hang out with us?"

Lenore hesitated. "Margaux and Katie?"

"Yeah. Like a fun get together of friends over the summer."

"Let me get this straight. The three of you want to hang out with the three of us."

"Exactly."

"Dean, do you think I'm stupid?"

The boys were taken aback. "What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I know you like Margaux, Dean. And Seamus, you obviously have a crush on Katie."

"Shhhhhh!" he hushed her. "Katie is right there!"

"No, she's not!" Lenore said, with songlike attitude on the 'no'. "She's downstairs."

Lenore turned the Katie and grinned. The two girls stood at the top of the staircase, Lenore twirling the coiled telephone cord around her finger.

"Wait," Dean said, "why do you think I like Margaux?"

"Because, again, I'm not stupid. I see the way you look and act around her. Margaux has a boyfriend. And I know what you're like, Dean."

Dean's ego began to deflate, but attempted to defend himself. "Okay, but Lenore, you can't tell her. Please, God, don't tell her."

"You have my word, I won't."

"And besides," he said, "I'll have you know, I hung out with her and Michael just recently and it wasn't weird at all."

"What?" Lenore gasped. "When?"

"We went bowling."

She sighed. "She went bowling? Margaux doesn't tell me anything. She's so secretive. I've only met the bloke one time. Is he nice?"

"What do you expect me to say?" Dean said quietly.

"Sorry," she winced. "Well, that still doesn't mean she wants to go on this weird get-together."

"Forget Margaux," Seamus cut in, "what about Katie?" Dean looked affronted as Seamus ripped the telephone from his hand and clung to it like a lifeline.

Lenore turned the phone toward her friend. "Hey Katie?"

"Yeah?"

"How would you feel about going on a date with Seamus?"

"WHAT?"

Lenore returned the device to her ear. "Does that answer your question?"

"How about just you and Neville, then?" Seamus said.

Neville shot his friend a fearful look. Before Lenore could react, Katie spoke up. "Why did you ask me if I wanted to go out with Seamus?"

"Hold on," Lenore said into the phone. She turned to Katie, who watched her with giddy eyes. "They have this crazy idea for a triple date, but they won't call it a triple date."

"And I bet Dean wants to go with your sister," Katie said.

Lenore nodded. "We are so smart."

On the other end of the line, Dean fed the phone more coins as Neville tapped his foot anxiously. Merlin, how he hoped she had not heard Seamus's question. Their conversation was muffled and he could not hear a single thing either girl was saying.

"Well…" Katie said. "What are you going to say?"

"I said no."

Katie sighed and sat on the staircase. "Too bad."

"What?" Lenore gasped.

"I wouldn't mind seeing the train wreck. Plus, it gives you the chance to hang out with Neville."

"And fight Dean off my sister."

"Margaux can handle herself. Ask when she comes back if she wants to go."

Lenore thought a minute. "Nah. I can convince her to go if I wanted. You want to go?"

"I want to see Neville trying to flirt with you," she giggled. "When the last time you saw him?"

Lenore searched her brain. "I went over to his house nearly three weeks ago, but we've been talking on the phone about once a week."

"Not nearly enough," Katie smiled. "You have to give him an opportunity to make a move."

Lenore nodded. "That's so scary, though."

"Why is it scary?"

"Because... as soon as he makes a move... we're dating. I'm dating Neville Longbottom. I'm going to be snogging him. Isn't that a bit scary?"

"You just don't like feeling vulnerable," Katie said. "Neville won't make you feel that way."

"I'm... I'm kind of scared, though. I'm scared I'll get nervous and push him away."

"So, don't do that," Katie said.

Lenore gave her a blank look and Katie continued. "Neville is a sweet guy. He'll go along with anything you say. If you want to slow down, he'll slow down. If you want to speed up, he'll speed up. He would do anything for you, Lenny, just to be with you."

"That's especially scary," she exhaled. "What if he fancies me a lot more than I fancy him?"

"So, you'll catch up. Tell him to take it back a notch. I'm serious, Lenore, he's happy just being around you. His expectations are low, don't worry about that. He's an easy-going guy. He won't expect you to do anything you aren't comfortable with. Neville is a great guy. If you get nervous, just think don't think about the future. Start out casual and let him know it's casual. Then snog the shit out of him."

Lenore laughed. "I really do want to snog him. I want to see how nervous he gets. That sounds bad, but..."

"No!" Katie giggled. "I love when blokes get flustered. Neville will worship you, especially after you snog him."

Lenore smiled and rolled her eyes, then placed the phone back to her ear. "Okay, we'll go."

Dean, Seamus, and Neville were jolted out of their conversation.

"All three of you?" Dean said, surprised.

"Yes," Lenore said. "Just tell me when and where."

They looked at each other. Seamus spoke up.

"The London Zoo. Saturday at three p.m. We can go out to eat after."

Lenore hesitated.

"What did he say?" Katie reached back and rattled Lenore's ankle.

Lenore laughed and shrugged Katie off her foot.

"Alright, I'll meet you there," Lenore waved. She turned back to the phone. "The zoo?" This sounded very date-like already. "Okay, whatever, sure. We'll be there."

"Great!" Dean said.

"Dean," Lenore said, her voice getting low. "I swear to God, if you harass my sister or talk shit about Michael, I will make sure no girl at Hogwarts ever talks to you again."

"Merlin, Lenore, I promise I won't do anything."

"You better not."

"She's a scary girl," Seamus said to Neville. He just shrugged and grinned.

"I'll talk to you guys later then."

"Okay, bye," Dean said.

"Oh wait!" she cut him off. "Can I talk to Neville? Privately?"

Seamus put his hand to his heart, mockingly. Dean handed Neville the phone. Neville gulped, "Hi."

"Hi Nev," she said much sweeter than before, "are Dean and Seamus listening?"

Neville glanced up to the guys, who were now about ten feet away, arguing over whether Katie Bell was interested in Seamus or not. "No."

"Was this your idea?"

"No."

"I didn't think so," she smiled.

"I'll try to keep them from bothering Margaux and Katie. And you."

Lenore laughed. "The thing is, I honestly think Katie is open to the idea of Seamus. So it'll just be keeping Dean from bothering Margaux."

"Okay," Neville said.

"Okay," Lenore said.

Neville could almost feel her warm smile across the phone line. It made him feel warm inside.

"Katie is calling for me, so I'll see you on Saturday."

"Alright, see you then."

"Bye, Nev."

" _Now,_ " Neville thought, placing the phone back on the hook, " _Where is Seamus so I can strangle him?_ "

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Change of plans," was the voice that greeted Lenore on the phone early Saturday afternoon.

"Seamus?" she asked, momentarily stunned. "What are you talking about?"

Today was supposed to be the day the five Gryffindors and one Slytherin went to the London zoo. Lenore stood in her cozy living room with Katie Bell, waiting for Margaux to come down the stairs so they could leave.

"We've decided the zoo is a bit lame," Seamus said. "And it's hot outside. So, we're just going to go to dinner and out somewhere afterwards."

"No, Seamus," Lenore argued, "we're already ready to go."

"What's going on?" Katie asked, setting down a magazine she found laying around.

"Seamus is pushing us back to dinner."

"No, hey," Seamus said, "put me on speaker."

Lenore searched around for her parents, but then remembered they were at the hardware store picking out a new paint color for their bathroom. She pressed the speakerphone button and Seamus's voice engulfed the room.

"I'm really sorry," he said, "it's just that… the zoo? Are we in primary school? Don't you lot want to do something more fun?"

Margaux bounded down the stairs, her wheat-colored hair bouncing wildly around her face. For the occasion, she donned on her favorite pair of high-waisted shorts and a tank top with a cute giraffe on it. Her eyelashes were made up nearly flawlessly with dark black mascara and her full pink lips turned into a frown. "Are they canceling? Did I put on makeup for nothing?"

Lenore sighed. "Alright, fine. What are we doing instead?"

"I'm not sure," Seamus said. "We'll give you a call definitely before five. Definitely dinner around that time. And we'll find something to do afterwards. You know Neville has never been to a movie theater?"

"I don't want to see a movie," Katie said. "Nothing good is out."

"Alright, alright, cripes," Seamus said, "I'll give you a call back in a couple hours. Again, I'm so sorry. We just got caught up in some things. Sorry."

"It's okay, bye."

Lenore hung up the phone. "Now what are we supposed to do?"

"Board games?" Katie suggested.

The girls found themselves two hours later on Lenore's bed, deep in a game of _Life_. Katie somehow ended up with seven children and an artist for a husband, so needless to say, she was losing the capitalistic war. Downstairs, the doorbell rang, but none of the girls thought anything about it.

"Girls!" their father called. "Someone is at the door for you!"

Margaux looked at the two girls across from her. "Who?"

As the three descended, they witnessed Seamus Finnigan standing in the foyer engaged in a lively conversation with their father, Tim Henry. The boy dressed in his finest button down floral print shirt. He once heard Katie say she liked men who wore short sleeve button downs. So, he went out and purchased the greenish-yellow shirt with a dark green tropical plants pattern. He matched it with tight khaki shorts. It truly was a terrible look. He looked like an American frat boy.

"Seamus?" Lenore exclaimed.

She tilted her head towards the porch and noticed Dean and Neville also standing outside. Dean had already given Seamus flack for his outfit choice, calling him "an American on holiday to Hawaii."

"Come in, come in," Tim gestured to the other two boys. "Shut the door, keep the air conditioning in."

Neville and Dean obeyed, both looking timidly towards the Henry patriarch.

"Seamus here was just telling me you were going out tonight," Tim said, with a hint of scorn in his voice. "I had no idea."

Their mother obviously had not told Tim that Margaux and Lenore had male friends. Their father was very wary of teenage boys. Lenore had not even told him she had been over to Neville's house. Her mother knew, but Margaux had covered for Lenore and volunteered the information that Neville was "possibly gay." That calmed her mother's nerves, even though it was by far not a good lie.

"We are hanging out, yes," Margaux said.

"Mmm," was all Tim said. He pointed to Dean and said, "I've seen you before."

"Yes, um, at Lucy's wedding," Dean replied, shaking Tim's hand firmly.

"Good cake, son."

Lenore knew that was all it would take to win her father over— food.

"Thank you."

Tim set his sights on Neville next. "And who are you?"

"Neville Longbottom," the boy said. He also shook Mr. Henry's hand.

"Longbottom?" Tim asked, with wide eyes.

Lenore knew her father remembered the Longbottoms had been victims during the First Wizarding War. It was common knowledge to wizards his age, even if Tim had been working in the muggle world in America for two years by that time. She prayed he would not be weird about this information.

"I don't know the Longbottoms very well, but you sound like very nice people," he said, quickly covering up the change in his tone.

"T-thank you, sir," Neville said.

"I used to know the O'Shea's quite well," Mr. Henry said, turning back to Seamus. Before the girls had joined the conversation, their father obviously harassed Seamus in to divulging his mother's maiden name. "Is Domhnall O'Shea related to you?"

"My uncle," Seamus stated.

"Ah, that makes sense. Quite a few O'Shea kids around. Don and I were friends at Hogwarts. I still go out to the pub with him every so often. Fun fellow."

"It runs in the family," Seamus grinned.

"Yes, alright," Tim said, "well, I'll leave you all alone. Don't get into any trouble tonight."

As he turned back to the kitchen, he gave Margaux and Lenore a warning glare and whispered, "Remember, there's still plenty of time to enter you two into a convent."

Both girls nodded quickly, just happy their father had not been as embarrassing as he usually was. As soon as he would out of ear shot, Lenore said "Katie! Mar! We've got about five seconds to get out of here before he realizes he forgot to ask us where we are going."

The girls quickly ran to get their shoes and purses and pushed the boys out the door and down the sidewalk-lined street.

"Just keep walking," Lenore prodded Seamus. "Don't look back."

When the group was about a block away, Seamus said, "Blimey! You'd think we're escaping prison."

"We are!" Margaux hissed. "Keep going. Up to that park over there."

The six made their way over to a patch of grass lined with two benches. They took a seat, as the boys looked at them in mass confusion.

"Our parents are really strict," Lenore clarified.

"Really strict," Margaux emphasized. "Especially our dad, and especially when boys are involved."

"He thinks every time a male and female hang out, it's a date," Lenore rolled her eyes.

"Is this not a date?" Seamus joked.

"There's six of us," Margaux laughed. "And my boyfriend lives right over there."

She pointed to a small blue house with white shutters across the roundabout where Michael lived. It was quaint, well-tended to and utterly pristine. This angered Dean and his mind filled with the idea to egg the humble house, but he quickly squelched the nefarious idea when he saw Margaux noticed him staring intently at the house. He covered for this pause and turned back towards the others.

"Wait, if they are so strict, how are you dating him?" Dean questioned.

"They… don't know," Margaux said. "And I don't plan on telling them. To them, all my friends are female."

Lenore laughed. "That's true for me too."

"What the hell do they think you do at school?" Seamus asked.

"Homework," Lenore said. "And remain shut-ins. So, what are we doing tonight?"

"I wanted to go to the zoo," Margaux folded her arms over her giraffe tank top, "but that plan was dashed."

"Tickets to the zoo are twenty quid each!" Seamus argued. "So, I bought us a twenty quid bottle of flavored tequila instead."

Seamus hoisted an enormous bottle of clear liquor out from his back pocket. It had obviously been enchanted to fit in small spaces.

"Merlin's beard," Margaux said, "that's huge."

"WHAT?" Lenore shouted "We didn't go to the zoo because you wanted to get drunk?"

"On the contrary, Lenore…"

She waited for him to finish his statement, but apparently that was the end. "You can't end an argument with that, that's not how English works."

"I don't speak English, I speak Irish," Seamus said. "And we Irish can end an argument any way we like. Mostly, with this." He hoisted up the bottle.

"Put that thing away before someone sees," Dean hushed him.

Seamus returned the bottle to his pocket.

"And where are we planning to drink this?" Katie asked.

Seamus pointed to the top of an abandoned car park that could be seen across town. "Up there."

"Seamus," Margaux said, "it's only five p.m."

"That's why we are going to dinner first," he said, as if it were obvious.

Lenore shot him an annoyed glance. "Who eats dinner this early?"

"Alright, ya birds, so the plan isn't fool-proof."

"How am I supposed to explain to my parents why I'm coming in drunk?" Margaux asked.

"That part of the plan, I do have worked out," he said, grinning at Katie. "Katie here is seventeen, she can sober you up before you go back home. When's your curfew?"

"Ten," Lenore said.

"TEN AT NIGHT?" Seamus exclaimed. "No, no, that won't work. Ask your parents for more time."

"I might be able to get them to let us stay out till eleven, if I call them later."

"Do that," Seamus said. "Now, let's get going to dinner! Where can we eat in this godforsaken city?"

"There's a Nandos down the street," Katie suggested, her mouth watering at the prospect of tasty chicken.

"That works!" Seamus said. "We'll piss around there for a couple hours. Lead the way!"

As the group made their way to the business area of town, Neville made his way back to Lenore.

"What's Nandos?" he whispered to her.

"You don't know?" she smiled.

He shook his head.

"It's like chicken."

"It's ' _like_ ' chicken?"

Lenore laughed. "It is chicken."

"Is it good?"

"I don't eat meat," she said, "but I assume so."

"Oh, that's right. I'll have to ask Dean what to get. What do you eat?"

"Some weird salad and chips."

"Yeah, I'll be asking Dean," he said wryly.

They walked in silence for a moment. Katie found herself talking to Dean, much to Seamus's grief. However, Margaux entertained him with the story of Dean's bowling adventure and many gutter-balls. All of them ignored Lenore and Neville behind them.

"I've never seen you wear anything with short sleeves," she smiled down at his arms.

"Oh, ummm." His face flushed red. "Y-yeah, I-I don't like to, I-I just... It's so hot outside. S-so, it was a choice between sweating like a waterfall or showing my pale, flabby arms."

Lenore glanced down at his exposed arms. She remembered all the times he had held her with those arms. "You have good arms."

He looked down at himself as well. "O-oh," his eyes widened. "T-thanks."

"I don't like showing my arms either," she smiled as she swung her arms in her loose maroon peasant blouse. "I like a little mystery."

"M-me, too," he said. "On myself."

Lenore fanned herself with her hand. "It really is awfully hot out here, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Dean said it's nearly thirty-two degrees."

"Holy shit," she exhaled. "I'm going to curl up and die. At least my house has air conditioning."

"Seamus's doesn't," he said. "I about died before coming over here."

"But your house does?"

"We have magic," he smiled.

"Oh, ha, that's right."

There was a pause between them, until Neville spoke.

"So," he said slowly, "how have you been?"

"I've been doing good," Lenore smiled. "What about you?"

"Good," he replied. He scanned her face. She did really appear to be doing well, despite their last meeting.

Lenore could tell what Neville meant when he asked her how she was. She gave him a nervous smile. "We passed her house, you know."

"Oh really?"

"Yep," she said. "But it's okay. I'm handling it better than last month. So, what have you been up to?"

"Gran decided the house needs fixing up, so she and I have been tearing the whole place apart."

"My parents, too! My mom decided to rip up the carpet all on the second floor. Dad doesn't like to use magic to do home repairs, because he thinks it makes him 'less of a man' or something stupid, so it's taking forever."

"Gran has been slinging spells all over the place. She accidentally turned a painting into an armchair and she can't figure out how to return it."

"How is Augusta?" she smiled. "You never told me what happened after I left your house."

Neville took a moment to think about whether or not he wanted to tell her. Finally, he decided he should. She was comfortable telling him things, he should be able to talk to her about uncomfortable subjects.

"She… um, she gave me the sex talk."

"No!" Lenore laughed. "She didn't!"

Neville nodded. "She did. I-it was awful. It wasn't even like… biology, it was life advice. Merlin, was it awful."

"And what wisdom did she impart onto you?"

"I'm not saying," Neville shook his head, "or you'll see my face turn bright red."

"It already is," she smiled.

Neville placed his hand over his cheeks and felt their warmth. "Merlin," he sighed. "I'm still not saying. It was too graphic."

"Tell me the tamest thing."

Neville knew she would not let this subject die. She had talked to him plenty about sex. He could suck up his nerves and talk to her about it. He looked down at his hands and whispered, so quietly he was not even sure she would hear, "S-she told me to always let the girl… f-finish first."

Lenore was quiet and he met her eye. "Wait," she said. "I couldn't hear you. Say it again."

Neville gulped and spoke with a little more force. "She said to always let the girl finish first."

Lenore's eyes widened. "Oh my god!" She laughed with glee. "That was the tamest thing?"

"If I told you the worst of it, you'd blush, too."

"Try me."

He took a deep breath. "She started telling me about a boyfriend who expected…" his voice quieted so she could barely hear him, "…o-oral from her but never gave it to her."

Lenore gasped and began laughing.

"I cut that off so fast. The entire time was just me begging her to stop."

She smiled. "At least she cares."

"Yeah," Neville shrugged. "I mean, it was kind of useful. I feel like a lot of blokes don't do either of those things."

"They don't."

He just nodded, unsure of what to say next. He was surprised he even said anything to Lenore about it. He never expected he would say the word "oral" in front of her.

"Other than that, did you get in trouble?" she asked.

He shook his head. "She said that was punishment enough."

Lenore smiled at him so beautifully. It was one of those smiles that showed no teeth, but all the joy twinkled in her eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat. "You were right," she said, "your face is bright red."

"Oh great," he sighed.

The group arrived the end of the street and found a Nandos on the corner. The restaurant was a rather overwhelming experience for Neville. After a few attempts by Lenore to explain "peri-peri," he gave up and let Seamus order for him. Other than Margaux nearly tripping a waiter, the dinner went by with some cheeky banter but no huge events.

A few hours later, they left, strolled around a muggle grocery store for kicks, and eventually found themselves wedging their way past a chain link fence long after nightfall. Behind the fence was the entrance to a five-story concrete car park, which smelled of cat piss and marijuana. Ne'er-do-wells and the sort obviously felt welcomed in this eye sore. The six wizards cautiously climbed a set of rickety stairs, Dean leading the way with gentle footsteps as not to collapse any one platform. The top of the car park gave a lovely view of the neighborhood, with its twinkling fairy lights lighting up the downtown pub scene to the flashes of a car alarm on the south side. It was a warm evening, but a gentle breeze wafted through the air. Katie cleared a spot clean with her wand and they all sat down near the corner diagonal from the staircase.

Seamus wedged himself between Katie and Margaux. He pulled the bottle of tequila from his pocket. "Put some silencing charms around us," Seamus requested Katie. "It might get noisy."

Katie obeyed and created a forcefield of silence and a muggle repellant, just in case any police saw them climb the structure. Seamus cracked open the seal on the bottle and handed it across the circle to Dean. He took a sip and passed it on to Lenore, who did the same.

"What, we're all going to drink out of the bottle?" Margaux stuck her nose up when Lenore handed her the bottle.

"Yesss," Seamus said, "I'm sorry, were you expecting tea with the Queen?"

"No, but I was expecting at least one glass."

"Alcohol is sterile, you'll be fine," Dean said. "Everybody take a starter shot."

Margaux took her shot and the bottle ended up back at Seamus, who gulped down about three shots, which would be enough to get the average person absolutely plastered.

"Seamus!" Lenore grabbed the bottle from his hand. "Jesus! Give the rest of us time to catch up to you."

She handed it to Katie, who then passed it to Neville.

"Let's play 'Never Have I Ever,'" Katie suggested.

Everybody groaned.

"I'll start," Lenore said, in support of her friend. "Never have I ever… watched porn."

Dean and Seamus took a sip and put down one of their ten fingers. To their surprise, Katie also drank. "It was an accident," she giggled. "It just came on the TV and I couldn't figure out how to stop it, so I watched it."

"That's hot," Seamus said. "And Neville, you are a liar."

"I don't have anything electronic," he pointed out.

"True," Dean said. "Should've said 'looked at porn.' But I know how to get Longbottom. Never have I ever vacationed at my family's beach house."

Neville hesitantly took a drink.

"You have a beach house?" Lenore questioned.

"Y-yes," Neville said sheepishly. "It's not really a house, more like a cottage. Gran's aunt gave it to her as a wedding present."

"Shit," Lenore said, "you know what my grandma got as a wedding present? My mom, five months later."

"And mom got that cool toaster from great aunt Rose. The one were you put the bread in like a letterbox," Margaux said.

"I remember that!"

"Never have I ever had a sex dream," Katie interrupted the sisters.

Everyone put a finger down.

The game went on like that until they were all pretty tipsy. The rules stopped applying within a couple rounds, or else alcohol poisoning would have ensued. Seamus was the first to lose in only thirteen questions, so the game ended.

"Now what?" Margaux asked.

"Truth or dare," Lenore said.

"Alright," Margaux said. "Neville, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What's the last lie you told?"

"I told Seamus that his outfit looked good."

"Why I oughta—" Seamus started. He was cut off by the bottle of tequila hitting his lips. His brain forgot that his hand wanted him to drink more. He passed the bottle to Lenore. "You haven't drank enough."

She took another sip and passed it to Neville. "Your turn to ask."

"Katie, truth or dare?" he said.

"Dare."

"I dare you to serenade Margaux with a song."

Katie grinned and turned to the blonde witch. "OH MY LOVELY/ OH MY DARLING/ OH MY BEAUTIFUL, MA-AH-ARGAUX," she attempted to sing to the _Oh My Darling Clementine_ song, "YOU ARE SO CUTE/ AND I LOVE YOU."

Her audience cheered. "Thank you, thank you," she bowed. "Truth or Dare, Seamus?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to give someone a piggyback ride around the car park."

Seamus stood up. "Dean! Bruh! Get over here!"

Dean leaped up and onto Seamus's back. The smaller Irish lad had a bit of trouble carrying the tall boy, but they had a right giddy time running around the blacktop lot. They returned to their seats breathless and giggling.

"Truth or dare, Lenore," Seamus said.

Lenore took another small sip of tequila. "Dare."

"Switch shirts with Neville."

Lenore looked at Neville. "That's a bit awkward."

"You have to do it," Seamus laughed maliciously.

Lenore whipped off her oversized long sleeve maroon pleasant blouse. She held it in front of her chest.

"Take off your shirt, too, and we can switch at the same time, like a drug deal," she instructed Neville.

Neville swallowed his fear and slowly removed his grey t-shirt. Seamus let out a few whistles. Lenore gave him a kind, but obviously nervous, smile. She never moved her eyes below his face, which he greatly appreciated and returned. Little things like that reminded him why he admired her.

"On three," Lenore said. "One… two… three."

They threw their shirts to each other and quickly put them on. Lenore got on her knees and tucked his shirt into her high-waisted shorts.

"Fashionable," Margaux gave a thumbs-up.

Neville tried to figure out how to put the shirt on without tearing it. He got it on with a little maneuvering, help from Katie's magic, and a laugh from the group. The shirt was still warm from her body heat and smelled faintly of musky vanilla perfume.

"Truth or dare, Dean," Lenore said after shooting a smile to Neville.

"Dare."

"Depict your life in interpretive dance"

Dean stood up and began dancing wildly. Nobody could tell what he was even supposed to be illustrating. While he was on the ground doing the worm, Katie yelled, "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know, but I'm feeling it!"

Dean returned to his spot and said to Margaux, "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"First person you ever kissed?"

"You," she chuckled.

The group fell silent. Dean's mouth dropped open. " _What?_ "

"You," Margaux repeated. "When I took you to the infirmary last December, you were so hopped up on pain medicine that you kissed me. I didn't kiss back, but I guess that still counts."

"Oh man, oh man," Seamus was rolling on the ground in a fit of laughter.

Dean stared at her for a while. "I… you… we've… kissed?"

"Yep!" Margaux said as she put the bottle to her lips. "I was surprised you didn't remember."

"I don't," he said, still in shock. "But your first kiss was me forcing myself on you?"

"It wasn't like that," Margaux shrugged, "but yeah."

"Merlin…" Dean said. "I'm so sorry."

He sat with his mouth open for what felt like eternity. Margaux shoved the bottle into his hands. "Take a few sips and get over it," she said. "I've kissed plenty of guys after that, I just won't count it next time I'm asked."

"Please don't," he said. "I'm so sorry."

Margaux giggled and clasped her hands together. "Truth or dare, Dean."

"Dare."

"Dance the tango with Neville."

Dean shook off his shock and stood. He made a mental note to discuss this with Margaux later. For now, he took Neville's hands. "I'll lead, for obvious reasons," he said, in reference to Neville's feminine outfit. The pair danced dramatically around the car park.

"Truth or dare, Katie," Dean asked.

"Truth."

"Have you ever had a crush on anyone in this circle?"

"Honestly?" Katie giggled.

"Honestly."

"Seamus."

"WHO?" Seamus shouted. "ME?"

"Yes," she giggled. "Back when I was a third year. I thought you were funny. But I definitely don't like you now."

Dean laughed so hard he stomped his feet on the ground.

"Shut yer hole, mate," Seamus yelled. "I'll take what I can get!"

Katie thought his sputtering was just as funny as Dean and she would not stop giggling either. "Truth or dare, Lenore."

"Truth."

"What's meanest thing you've ever done?"

Lenore thought a moment. "Circe does this thing where she invites boys up to our room, and one of the boys she hung around kept going through all our stuff. So, I put this spell on my things one day that effectively pinches a person's hand, like a mousetrap would, if they touched my stuff. This boy started looking through my things and SNAP! But I did the spell too strong and it broke the poor bloke's hand."

Lenore was now nearly choking on her own laughter, along with the rest of the group.

Margaux gasped, "Was he okay?"

"He was fine. They fixed it right up in the infirmary. I never told anyone it was me who broke his hand. Truth or dare, Neville."

"Dare."

Lenore pulled a marker out of her purse. "Let me write something on your face."

She dragged her knees over to the boy. With her left hand, she held his chin.

"COCK AND BALLS!" Seamus shouted. "DRAW A COCK AND BALLS!"

"No," Lenore giggled, "but I am open to suggestions."

"Wanker!" Dean said.

Lenore's gentle fingers pressed into his skin. Neville drew a sharp breath. Her right hand started with a "W" on his forehead. With her face so close to his, he grew uneasy. His nose detected the intoxicating liquor on her breath. He adjusted his own inhalation in tune with hers. She completed the word and hugged his face into her chest. He could hear her giggle as her warm skin surrounded his face and made his breath catch in his lungs. Merlin, she was drunk. She was never this flirty with him, ever. Still, Neville wondered if she was flirty drunk. She almost seemed to be flirting with Seamus and Dean at times, too. Maybe she was just giddy, not flirty.

She loosened her hold on his neck and tilted his face towards her. "Looks good," she said with a lopsided grin. His cheeks burned hot. "Your turn."

After a moment to recover from his face against her chest, he asked, "Truth or dare, Dean?"

"Dare."

"Seamus looks eager, so I dare you to let him draw on your face."

Seamus hopped up and grabbed the pen from Lenore before Dean could react.

"No cock and balls!" Dean said.

But by that time, the artist had begun his work. Two testicles lined Dean's forehead as a veiny penis flopped down his nose.

"Oh for Merlin's sake…" Dean said. "It's a good thing I'm staying over at your place tonight, because my mum would kill me. Truth or dare, Margaux?"

"Truth."

"Would you still love Michael if he gained seven stone?"

Margaux hesitated. "Well, I don't love him, for one."

"Oh? No?" Dean perked up.

"No," Margaux said, "and because I don't love him right now, and I'm not sure I plan on ever loving him, I'm going to have to say no. But I'm not being vain, I would probably still love a guy like that if it were a serious relationship. But Michael and I are just having fun."

"Alright," Dean said, satisfied with that answer.

"Truth or dare, Katie?" Margaux asked.

"Dare."

"Lick someone in this circle's foot."

Katie surveyed the scene. "Lenore," she giggled, "it's going to have to be you."

"Lick Seamus's foot!" Lenore said.

"Nope!" Katie argued. "Hand it over."

Lenore untucked her feet from underneath her. Katie took her leg in both hands and ran her tongue across the top of Lenore's foot, in between her sandal straps.

"Ew!" they both said in between laughing.

Katie let go and turned to Seamus. "Truth or Dare, Seamus."

"Dare."

"I dare you to race Margaux to the end of the car park."

"Done," Margaux said. She was already up and running before Seamus was aware of the happenings.

"We should follow and make sure they don't accidentally fling themselves over the edge," Dean said.

"Good point."

Katie and Dean ran after the two as Neville and Lenore stayed seated.

"I'm not running," Lenore slurred. "Too… too much."

"Me neither," Neville agreed.

She giggled. "I like that shirt on you."

"This old thing?" he said. "I picked it up at John Lewis."

"How do know John Lewis but you don't know Nandos?"

Neville shrugged. "No idea."

She shimmied over to him and picked up his wrist. "What time is it?" she asked. "My eyes aren't—aren't working too great."

"A little after ten-fifteen."

"We should be heading back soon."

"Mmhm, it's a long walk."

Immediately after he finished his words, she flew back, as if her head was a magnet and the ground was a piece of metal.

"Len!" he exclaimed.

She began giggling. He let out a sigh of relief that she was not injured and must have meant to fall back. "Look at the stars."

Neville glanced up and back to her. The quick motion caused his brain to spin. "Pretty."

She met his eyes and smiled. His stomach flipped. She was so beautiful and so near him right now. She scooted closer to him, so that her cheek touched his outer thigh. "I'm so drunk," she whispered as she closed her eyes.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "I'm not too drunk, you know? I'm the perfect amount."

"You look really happy."

She smiled and opened her eyes to meet his. "You look really cute."

Neville's stomach twisted violently. He stared at this girl for a long time, as she stared back at him. They could hear Seamus's laughter and shouts in the distance, but neither paid any mind to him. "I-I do?"

"In my little blouse, you do," she laughed.

Neville exhaled his breath. She meant his shirt looked cute. Not that he was cute. That eased some of his nerves, but at once he was struck with the vague feeling of loneliness. Lenore raised her head and placed it on his knee. She closed her eyes and sighed as she settled her cheek into his leg. Merlin, she had never seen this close to him. He was so drunk. His inhibitions gone, he decided to just go for it. He placed his hand in her hair and she smiled. His fingers massaged her scalp lightly and she reached up to sink her fingers into his calf.

"I'm feeling chatty," she smiled.

"What do you want to chat about?"

"I'll talk about anything! What do you want to talk about?"

Neville thought a moment. "Tell me something I don't know about you."

"Something you don't know, mmm? Well... Iiiii have never been this drunk before. Are you drunk?"

"I'm drunk, but I'm definitely not as drunk as you. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Aww, Nev, you're so cute."

Again, his torso tingled with nerves. "You think so?"

"You're so cute I could eat you up!"

He laughed. She was an odd drunk, but he loved it. She seemed so free.

"I'm so happy," she grinned.

"Why?"

"You're close to me."

He was nervous now. His fingers played with her hair to release some of his antsiness. "Y-you like me being close?"

"I love being close to you." Her fingers slid tighter around his leg. "You're Neville."

He nearly shook with nerves, but forced himself to recover. None of this indicated she fancied him, but it was the closest he had ever gotten to feeling like she could one day take an interest in him. Regardless of that, she was being sweet and baring her emotions to him. He wanted to returned her kindness.

"And you're Lenore."

She giggled against his trousers, then sat up. "We should get the others."

Neville helped her off the ground and called for Dean, Margaux, Seamus and Katie to follow them down the staircase. He was the first one down the step, but he could hear Lenore right behind him, obviously having trouble walking. She was much drunker than he was. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Do you need help?"

"No," she said. "I'm fine."

But at that exact moment, she missed a step and nearly fell flat on her arse if she hadn't been holding the railing.

"Len," he said. "Let me help you."

"Get on his back!" Seamus shouted.

Lenore bit her lip and met Neville's frightened eyes.

"Y-you can if you want," he offered.

"Can you... lift me?" she asked.

"Yes! Of course. You're small enough."

Lenore placed her hands on his shoulders. "Okay, please help me. I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize," he said kindly. He turned around and crouched. Lenore wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs hugged his hips. Neville sunk lower and held her under the knees. He stood up straight and began his slow descent down the staisecase. Merlin, he could feel her warm breath on his neck. Her hot whispered filled his ears, "Thank you."

"N-no problem."

She buried her face in his neck and relaxed as he carried her down the staircase.

"Nev?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything."

He swallowed his nerves. "N-no, thank you for everything."

"You're so sweet," she giggled. "Hey. You like tequila?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"It's tequilla for," she deadpanned.

He laughed, quite loudly. "Is that supposed to be a pun?"

"It is," she laughed. "But I'm not good at puns."

"That was a decent try," he chuckled.

As they exited the chainlink fence surrounding the car park, they once again split off into three groups, with Neville and Lenore in the back. She unfurled her legs from around him and he leaned down until her feet gently touched the sidewalk. She smiled at him as they walked, her face illuminated by the electric yellow glow of the flickering streetlight. "Thanks."

"N-no problem. Are you good now?"

She nodded. "I'm better in the light."

Suddenly, she pointed to his stomach. "My shirt is a little short for you."

Neville had not even realized his stomach stuck out from the bottom of the shirt. He quickly yanked the shirt down to cover his bare stomach and grew red in the face.

"It's okay," Lenore laughed. "Crop tops are all the rage."

"You got the better end of the deal," he said, gesturing his head towards his shirt on her body.

She looked down at his plain, dark grey shirt. "I did," she said. "This is very comfortable. It looks better on you, though."

"Nah," he said, "it looks great on you. Everything does."

She smiled at his brief drunken inhibition. "You obviously haven't seen me in the bridesmaid dress I wore to my cousin's wedding."

"You've got cousins?" he asked.

"Yeah!"

"Why don't they go to Hogwarts?"

"They're all quite a bit older than me. There's ten years between my dad and his brother. So, all my first cousins are like thirty and my second cousins, the oldest is eight. And my mom's sisters back in the States don't have children. Oh wait, they're muggles. I forget that," she tapped on her head and laughed at herself.

"Oh," he smiled.

"You don't have cousins?"

"No, my dad is an only child and my mum's sister died."

Lenore frowned. "I'm sorry. Oh my god, that's so sad."

She glanced to the front of the group, toward her little sister. "I don't know what I'd do without Margaux. Aww, I'm sad now. I'm glad I have her, I couldn't be an only child.

"I wish I had a sibling."

"Let's get married, you can have Margaux and her husband."

Neville nearly stopped in his tracks. Lenore just joked about marrying him. He had no idea how to react. His heart positively overflowed with joy as he watched his girl with so much admiration. She had the silliest grin and she placed her hand in a nearby sprinkler sticking out the neighborhood park grass. The water bounced off her hand and straight into Neville's face.

"Hey!" he shouted as he attempted to shield himself from the water.

She giggled and continued splashing him.

"Come on," he said. He took her elbow and led her to the middle of the field. He started flailing his arms hysterically and sliding his feet across the wet grass.

"What are you doing?" she laughed.

He hit his shoulder against hers. "Dancing."

Lenore began to jump around the gushing sprinklers with him. The others had not even noticed they were missing. He held her hand and twirled her around. Their clothes were soaking wet and they fell into a fit of giggles. Lenore closed the distance between them. On a drunken whim, Neville leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.

Lenore gasped. "You just kissed me."

Neville nodded. Even drunk, he felt embarrassment. For all of it. For dancing, for showing so much emotion, for kissing her. She laughed and pulled him into a hug, holding his dripping wet body. He closed his eyes and held her. He never wanted to let go. This summer had been the weirdest months of his entire life. His days felt monotonous and empty and his nights were filled with scary dreams and dark thoughts. The only break he got from the crush of reality was when he was with his friends. Dean and Seamus certainly made him forget his troubles. Ginny and Luna understood what he was going through. But Lenore made him feel completely different. She understood him on a completely different level. She always treated him with such tact and kindness. She knew when to push and when to listen. She could always tell if he was up or down that day.

Neville sometimes feared he was emotionally dependent on her, but he realized that was not the case. He took care of himself. He did not need Lenore to do that. Without her, of course, he would have his good and bad days, but he liked her being there for him on any type of day. He did not idealize her, rather he appreciated her flaws. His happiness was not linked to her, but he enjoyed sharing happy moments with her. They were two autonomous beings who he hoped would one day like to share their independence together. A lot of the characters in the novels he read suffered from emotional dependency, but he knew where the line was, and he was not capable of crossing it.

After a few seconds, Lenore's arms slipped away from his body and she took his hand. "Come on, Katie needs to get us sobered up."

They took off running back toward the group.

"You're soaking wet!" Katie giggled. "Did you two get lost?"

"Dry us off, please, love!" Lenore requested, throwing her arms open to her friend.

Katie waved her wand over the two. "You want to be sobered up, too?"

They both nodded.

Katie tapped her wand to each of their mouths. Almost at once, Lenore felt her brain become clear. Her head throbbed and her mouth became dry. Neville blinked a few times and appeared as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Oh, Merlin," Lenore said, "I don't feel well."

"Drink plenty of water when you get home. All this spell does it speed up the hangover."

They thanked Katie as she headed to the front of the group to sober up the rest of them. Seamus refused to allow Katie to perform the spell on him, so she moved on to Dean and Margaux, who up until that time, had been attempting to ignore each other. First up, Margaux's hazy mind clarified, but then grew heavy. Dean was next to join her in a throbbing hangover. In the back of his mind, he knew he should talk to her about their kiss, but he did not know how to broach the topic. He wanted to approach it lightly and with humor, but he had absolutely no recollection of the kiss. What if he had done something awful to her? Or said something to her that revealed his feelings? He had absolutely no idea. But the more he thought about it, the more nervous he grew. Obviously he could have said anything too bad if she was still talking to him. He decided to finally just come out and ask while Katie and Seamus were distracted with Seamus's loud rant about the lack of quality Irish creme available at Hogwarts.

"Margaux," he said slowly.

Her light green eyes flickered over towards his. She appeared hesitant to talk to him, and he did not blame her. He could not bring his mouth to speak any words, he merely let his mouth hang open as she stared at him in discomfort.

"You want to talk about the kiss, don't you?" she asked.

He nodded. "Mar, I'm so sorry. I have no memory of it, whatsoever."

She fiddled with her hands. "Don't worry about it. It didn't change my opinion of you. You were hopped up on drugs, it was a weird moment."

"I… I didn't say anything weird did I?"

"All you said were weird things," she smiled. "It would be weirder if you hadn't. You kissed me and then starting talking about a unicorn, I think. I knew you wouldn't remember a thing."

"A-a unicorn?"

"I believe he was named Timmy or Jimmy?"

"Oh god," Dean sighed, "Jimmy. That's Bella's imaginary friend."

"You know the name of her imaginary friend?"

Dean nodded. "Of course. She doesn't shut up about him."

Margaux grinned at him so beautifully. Dean wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but he knew that was the farthest thing from her mind. He was frankly surprised she still talked to him after all the awkward things he had done around her.

"Hey…" he asked slowly. "Was it a good kiss, at least?"

She rolled her eyes and hit him lightly. "Is that what you're concerned about?"

"No! Sorry!" he furrowed his eyebrows. "I shouldn't have asked. Forget it. Merlin, sorry."

She laughed. "It was a good kiss. I didn't kiss you back though, just so you know. I didn't want to take advantage of you."

"You? Take advantage of me? Ha! Try the other way around. I'm so sorry."

"Quit apologizing," she waved her hand. "It's over. You've apologized. It was a mistake. This doesn't change anything."

Except, Dean wished it would change everything. Hopefully, for the better. But Margaux was so keen to ignore any drama, he knew she would simply pretend it never happened.

"Alright, thank you," Dean said.

She smiled. "Are you going to be weird around me now?"

"I thought I already was," he grinned.

She laughed. "That's true. Oh god, why isn't Seamus sober yet?"

She pointed to the front of the group, where Seamus was barking at a dog in someone's backyard.

"Let's go shut him up," said Dean.

She nodded and hurried over to Seamus before the neighbors called the police on the underage teens.

With the other four momentarily distracted, Lenore and Neville found themselves alone way in the back of the group. Their moods had obviously changed. No longer were they giddy, but Lenore could barely keep her eyes open. She blinked heavily several times before Neville asked, "You tired?"

"Exhausted," she yawned. "I just want to go home and crawl in bed."

As Neville nodded in agreement, Lenore turned to him and immediately gasped as her eyes peered down at his outfit. "Shit. We're still wearing each other's clothes."

Neville looked down. "Oh damn, I almost forgot."

"That comfortable?"

"It really is," he said, flapping his arms around for effect.

"Well, I need it back," she grinned.

Neville hesitated. "We should have been drunk for this."

"What, afraid I'll see your secret tattoo?"

"Oh yeah," he nodded. "The dolphin tramp stamp is my business and my business only."

Lenore giggled and removed Neville's t-shirt from her body. In the glow of the street lamps, he caught sight of her red lacy bra. He hurriedly tore his eyes away and looked straight ahead, as his mouth dropped open at the image of her smooth shoulders imprinted in his brain. She strategically held the shirt in front of her body.

"Hurry up!" she laughed and elbowed him. "I'm walking around my neighborhood half naked."

He carefully removed her shirt and handed it to her. She pretended to crane her neck around to his back, but her eyes were closed out of respect. "Nope, no tramp stamp," she said, opening her eyelids once more.

"It's lower," he said.

"An ass stamp," she smiled. "You look like a gypsy, walking around with no shirt on."

He reached out to grab his t-shirt, but as he did, Lenore shifted slightly and he accidentally ran the his hand across the edge of her right breast. She laughed loudly. "Smooth."

"No!" he gasped. "I'm so sorry!"

Lenore continued to laugh as she slipped her shirt over her head. "I'm only kidding."

"I-I'm s-so s-sorry," Neville stammered.

"Neville," Lenore assured him, "don't worry about it."

He put his shirt on silently.

Lenore waved her hand in front of his face. "Don't tell me you've lost all the top notch banter from a few seconds ago."

"N-no," Neville said. He thought a moment. "I haven't ever been that drunk."

"Me neither!" she said. "It was interesting. I feel like death right now, though. What is Seamus doing?"

The front door of her house was open and the four of them loudly entered. Lenore jogged ahead. "Shhhh," she said. "My parents are asleep!"

"I've got to piss," Seamus shouted. "Where's your bathroom? Or should I use the yard?"

"Shhhh… There's one in the kitchen there and one right upstairs."

They all used the bathroom and returned to the foyer. Seamus made his way over to the living room couch and took a seat.

"Goodbye, Seamus," Lenore attempted to usher him out the door.

Seamus, instead, noticed the three dogs clawing at the sliding glass doors. "Dogs!" he announced. He bolted out the glass doors and into the backyard. At once, the giant dogs leaped onto his legs.

"Merlin," Lenore sighed. "He's going to be a while."

The group sat on the living room couches, watching Seamus play with the Henrys' three large barking dogs. With no place else to sit, Lenore decided to stand by Neville's armchair. He hopped up immediately. "You sit down."

"No," she gave him an appreciative smile. "You sit. You're the guest."

"Are you sure?"

"Sit," she commanded him. He obeyed, but as soon as he took a seat, she sat on the the arm of the plush rocking chair. She placed a foot next to his leg on the seat to steady herself. In his mind, he imagined a few years down the road, Lenore would sit in his lap or perhaps drape her legs over his. He needed to get back to Seamus's house and take some painkillers for his hangover before he lost his sense.

Seamus returned within the next few minutes and drunkenly plopped down on Dean's lap. "Why didn't you all come see the dogs?"

Dean shoved Seamus onto the floor as they all giggled.

"Because we aren't children," Margaux said.

Seamus grinned from his place on the carpet. "Alright, alright, you ready to go, mates? My mum'll be waiting for us."

"I'm ready," Dean hopped up. "Bye, ladies."

"I should go, too," Katie said. "I was supposed to be home a while ago."

"I'll walk you out," Margaux started for the front reception hall.

The four of them made their way out the door and onto the porch to say goodbye. Neville slowly stood, making sure he did not knock Lenore off the edge of the rocking recliner. "Goodnight," he said to her.

"Goodnight," she said sweetly.

As he turned for the door, he felt her fingers wrap around his arm. He looked back at her wide eyes staring at him.

"I know we've only got two weeks before school, but we should hang out one more time before that," she said.

Neville swallowed audibly. "Y-yeah, I'll have to call you."

Lenore flashed him a bright smile. "Sounds great."

She let her hand fall from his elbow, tracing his forearm, before giving his fingers a tight squeeze. "Goodnight."

He smiled nervously and repeated her words back.

"Oh wait!" she said, still holding his hand. "I forgot to tell you in person: happy birthday!"

"Thanks," he smiled brightly.

She let go of his hand. "Stay right here. I'll be right back."

She ran up to her room and returned to the living room with a heavy square present wrapped in pinstripe green paper. "Happy birthday," she repeated.

Neville glanced from the present to her. He started to tear at the paper, but she placed a hand over his. "Open it later. Seamus is in a hurry to leave."

Outside on the front porch, the sound of Seamus rattling the front wind chimes with his bare hands fluttered back inside. "Oi! Get a move on, mate!"

"Thank you," Neville said quickly. "Really. You didn't have to get me anything."

"Good thing I found it laying around my attic, then," she grinned.

With one final appreciative glance, he said goodnight and followed his mates down the street.

"Where'd you get that?" Seamus pointed towards the package.

"Did Lenore give you a present?" Dean gasped.

"Yeah."

"What is it?" Seamus demanded.

"I don't know."

"Open it, then!" Dean commanded.

Neville slowly peeled the edge of the paper up. Underneath, a small white envelope sat on top of the present. He decided to read the card first:

" _Happy birthday, Neville! I know it's late, and I just wanted to apologize again. It was shitty for me to not do anything on the day. It is also kind of shitty that I searched my house for a present instead of buying you one, but I remembered seeing this a while ago. It was my grandpa's. He had an interest in herbology, too. If you don't like it or you already have it, I'm sorry. I tried to make up for my shit-iness, but sometimes it's hard. Also, I'm sorry I said 'shit' so many times in what was supposed to be a lovely birthday card. I'm going to end it here before this turns into a letter. But it basically already has, so I'll just say: I hope your birthday was great and may every day of your life be wonderful. xx. Lenore"_

Neville carefully placed the card back in the envelope and into his pocket. He flipped the package over and removed the tape from the flap to reveal an antique leather-bound book. Etched in gold lettering was the title, _Common Flora of the British Isles._

He ran his fingers across the fine leather binding. Each page was made of thick paper, complete with beautiful color illustrations of plants he had never even heard of. It was not exactly Herbology, as the inside flap explained, but rather muggle "botany." The book was heavy, but still thin enough to be held with minimum exertion, unlike _Goshawk's Guide to Herbology_ , which could be well over two-thousand pages depending on the edition.

A smile ran across Neville's face. Dean and Seamus eyed the present. "So, it's just a dusty old book?" Seamus said.

"No," Neville clutched it tighter to his chest, "it looks like it will be interesting."

"You are such a loser," Dean laughed. "And she knows this. What did the note say?"

"Nothing special," Neville said.

"Bull," Seamus laughed. "I saw the way you shoved it in your pocket. How did she sign it?"

Neville thought back to the note. "She put two x's at the end."

"An x?" Dean exclaimed. "That's good! That's basically a heart."

"And two of them!' Seamus said. "Might as well buy the engagement ring now, I hear there's an End of Summer Sale going on in Diagon Alley."

Neville blushed. He could not wait to get home and read his new book.


	21. Chapter 21: It's All Out

**The** **mild** **smut** **(I promise there will be much more) you** **have** **all** **been** **waiting** **for** **begins...** **NOW:**

"You're a cheater!" Lenore screeched as Margaux grinned without shame.

"Maybe I'm just a better player."

"Or maybe you mark the Old Maid so you can tell which card not to grab."

Margaux shrugged. "I guess we'll never know."

"I KNOW!" Lenore said, throwing the cards towards Margaux. She threw them back, making Lenore even more mad. After a few rounds of throwing things at each other, Lenore started to laugh along with Margaux.

"Lenore!" their mom called. "Your phone is ringing!"

"Okay, I'm coming!"

Lenore sprinted down to the dining room, where her phone was sitting on the table. She looked at the caller ID and noticed it was Neville. She picked up the phone, clicked the green button, and said warmly, "Hi, Nev."

"'Nev', huh? That's so cute I want to barf."

The voice was not Neville. "Dean?"

"You got it," he stated.

"How can I help you?" Lenore asked.

Dean glanced back at Mrs. Dubinsky chatting with Neville at the front door. "I wanted to invite you to a little get-together at my place Saturday night. A back to school celebration. Margaux is invited too, of course."

"Of course," Lenore rolled her eyes. "Is this like a party?"

"It is," Dean said. "My family is out of town."

"My parents are super strict," Lenore whispered after she made sure her mom and dad were out of earshot. "There's no way Margaux and I could get away with going to a party."

"Just say you're staying over at Katie's house. She's coming."

"What about Margaux?"

"I invited Luna and Ginny. And I think that Derek bloke is coming, as far as I know."

Lenore pondered a minute. "Let me talk to Margaux."

She went up to her room, phone in hand, to see Margaux shuffling the deck of cards. She closed the door.

"Margaux, how would you feel about going to a party at Dean's house?"

Her eyes grew wide. "Mom and Dad would kill us."

"We tell them that we're staying over at Katie and Luna's houses."

"Margaux! Margaux!" The sisters could hear Dean shouting, so they put him on speakerphone.

"Our mums are friends, so whatever you do, don't tell them you're coming over here. Say you're both going to Katie's."

Margaux thought a moment. She glanced up to her sister. "Let's go. I haven't been to a party in ages."

Lenore raised her eyebrows. She expected Margaux to say no.

"Great!" Dean said. "See you there around 9pm."

It took a bit of convincing and some truth-stretching, but Mrs. Henry finally let her two daughters go with the promise to be home from "Katie's house" before midnight.

With that threat, Lenore and Margaux took off for Dean's house a few streets over. They met Katie Bell at her port key the other direction down the block.

"I'm not drinking tonight," Katie said. "So, you two won't be the only sober ones."

"I'm sure Neville won't drink," Lenore said.

"I don't think Seamus will drink, either," Margaux joked.

After the uproar of laughter, Katie said "Seamus will drink like a man frantically searching for something at the bottom of each glass."

When they arrived at Dean's house, after walking down some back alleys to avoid their own street, they were greeted by George Weasley. He seemed to be the bouncer.

"Hey ladies," he said. "Lenore, haven't seen you around the shop yet."

Lenore grinned. "I'll be around eventually."

"Time's running out," the boy replied.

"Soon. Hey, is Angelina coming tonight?"

"How should I know?" George said quickly, with an obvious change in his voice. "You're her friend."

Lenore laughed. George was so funny about Angelina. He obviously liked her, but he pretended like he did not. "See you later, George."

As soon as they walked in the door, music was blasting. George must have cast a noise-reducing spell on the outside of the house. People were everywhere. It looked like a frat party in the Hollywood movies Lenore watched, which was odd because most kickbacks she and her sister attended were small and uneventful. This, however, was a full-on rager. The entryway opened to a large living room. Strobe lights flashed and all the walls had a strange dark blue light shining on them. The floors vibrated from people jumping.

"Ginny!" Margaux called her friend over.

Ginny turned around and waved. "Margaux! I didn't expect you here!"

"I thought this was a small party!" Margaux shouted over the music.

"I thought so, too! I don't think Dean expected this many people. There's probably about a hundred here!"

"Who else is here?"

"I'll show you around!" Ginny shouted.

Margaux and Ginny ran off to find their friends. Lenore and Katie went to the dance floor. They found Alicia Spinett and chatted. After dancing to about three songs, Lenore noticed how bored everyone looked. She glanced up at the second floor walkway above the living room that Dean was DJ'-ing from. The songs Dean was playing were pretty lame. Wizard music was pretty lame in general.

"Are you all having a good time?" Dean shouted into his wand, which projected his voice like a microphone.

A weak cheer came from the audience.

"DEAN!" Lenore shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "PLAY SOME MUGGLE MUSIC!"

"What's this?" Dean announced, cupping his hand to his ear. "Is Lenore challenging me to a DJ-off?"

The crowd drunkenly yelled and applauded.

"Get up here, Lenore!"

Lenore was suddenly embarrassed she had screamed, but she ran up the stairs.

"You think you can play better music?" Dean said into his wand.

"I know I can."

She heard Katie cheer her on, followed by quite a few other people.

"You can try," Dean said, handing her his wand.

"Alright y'all," Lenore said in an attempt to sound like the American DJs she grew up listening to. "The new theme of this party is 'Muggle Music from the 80s'. Dean and I are going to introduce you to a whole other world. Except you Muggle-borns. Everybody always shits on you, but this is your chance. SHOW US YOU KNOW WHO CYNDI IS!"

With that, Lenore grabbed the CD player and put on "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." The crowd went wild, jumping up and down to the beat.

After the song ended, Dean laughed. "You really want to do this, Henry?"

"Just pick a song, Thomas."

Dean put on "Push It" by Salt n Peppa. Again, the crowd danced wildly. Lenore flipped through Dean's music player. "You realize the drunker they get, the less choosy they will be?"

"That's why I intend to play the last song."

She shot him an amused glance, then turned back to his music player. "I can't believe you don't have this song…"

"What song?"

"'Come on Eileen' by Dexy's Midnight Runners."

"Never heard of it."

"Yes you have! You danced to it at that wedding!"

Lenore searched for the song over all his CDs and finally found it. The song blasted over the speaker and as the chorus crooned, Dean said, "Ohhhh, I remember this song!"

After Dean played "Safety Dance," Lenore countered with "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go". "Pump Up the Jam" was the biggest hit so far, when everyone formed a circle and watched a dance-off between Seamus and Angelina Johnson, who ended up attending the party and fully enjoying herself.

"GUYS!" Seamus shouted as he barreled up the staircase after his dance-off. "THIS MUSIC IS SICK! IS THIS WHAT MUGGLES LISTEN TO?"

"I listened to this stuff when I was growing up," Lenore said.

"Me, too," Dean added.

"KEEP IT UP! EVERYONE LOVES IT!"

Lenore watched him turn around and almost spill his beer down the stairs. Dean hopped up and grabbed Seamus's arm to stop him from losing balance. "Careful there, mate!"

"HEY LENORE!" Seamus said, spinning around again. "HAVE YOU SEEN NEVILLE YET?"

"Not yet."

"When you see him, he wants you to snog his brains out!"

"Alright, bye Seamus!" Dean said, shoving him down the staircase.

Lenore knew Dean must have been able to see her embarrassment, even in the dark hall walkway. He sat down next to her and said quietly, "Seamus shouldn't drink."

Lenore grimaced. "I hope you haven't told him any of your secrets, or he'll spill them like he just did Neville's."

Dean smiled, "I didn't know it was a secret."

She looked over to him. "Until he tells me himself, it's a secret."

"He's never going to tell you unless you help him," Dean said. "He is terrified."

Lenore rolled her eyes. "I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be fearless."

Dean picked at the carpet in front of him. "Neville has faced Voldemort, but he can't face you. Think about that."

"Are you saying I'm scarier than Voldemort?"

"I'm saying Neville needs your approval. He doesn't need Voldemort's."

Lenore sighed. This could not be more difficult. "I wish he would just say something."

"Do you fancy him, too?" Dean asked.

Lenore looked him in the eyes and nodded. "Since I know about your crush on Margaux, I guess I can tell you. I do. But don't tell him. Or I'll come after you."

Dean laughed and shook his head. "You two are something."

Lenore glanced down to the first floor and scanned the room for any sign of him. "Where is he anyway?"

"He doesn't like to dance," Dean said, "Or play drinking games. So probably talking in the kitchen. If you want to go find him, I'll hold down the fort. Bring him up, maybe get some booze in him, and he'll tell you anything."

Lenore smiled and shook her head. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't peer pressure your poor mate."

Neville was in fact in the kitchen, sitting on the laminate counter top with a very drunk Terry Boot. The Ravenclaw boy swung his bitter drink up to his lips and began talking before he even swallowed.

"I tell you what, this year is going to be a bitch."

A sober Neville nodded along and said, "Mmhmm."

"All the homework, the Slytherins are gonna be right wankers, thinking they're all high and mighty what with this You-Know-Who shite. Hogwarts is gonna be like a prison— mark my words. But who knows, maybe when we get back, all the now-fourth year girls will have grown tits over the summer."

Before Neville could properly reply to Terry's crude comment, the Ravenclaw interrupted him with a shout. He waved wildly, "OLIVER!"

Across the kitchen, Neville spotted the dark-haired boy. His gut told him to get up and leave, but he could not bring himself to do it, in fear of looking suspicious.

"TERRY!" Oliver Rivers shouted as he sauntered over. He and Terry performed an intricate handshake that ended with Oliver hoisting himself onto the kitchen counter next to Terry. "Longbottom," he nodded across Terry towards the Gryffindor. "What's going on, lads?"

"Not much!" Terry slurred. "We're just talking about how shitty sixth year is going to be."

"It's gonna suck," Oliver raised his cup. "This summer was our last time of freedom, probably ever."

Terry poured himself more dark liquor from the glass bottle behind him. He swallowed a large amount in one gulp. "How's your summer been, then, mate?"

"Not bad!" Oliver said, sipping his own drink. "The birds have flocked to me, if you get my metaphor."

Neville noticed how intoxicated Oliver already was. Oliver was never pleasant when he was drunk. He was not pleasant sober either, but he always seemed pushier after a few pints.

"Ohhh," Terry grinned wickedly. "Who's your most recent bird?"

"Oh, I can't say," Oliver smiled. "She wouldn't like me spilling."

"Come on!" Terry shook his friend's arm. "Tell us!"

Oliver purposefully turned his eyes to Neville and said, without blinking, "Lenore Henry."

Neville's stomach clenched. He immediately became numb to his spinning surroundings. Somewhere in this distance, he could hear Terry laughing and high-fiving Oliver, but none of that mattered. _Lenore and Oliver kissed._ His brain shouted the words over and over, the image of the two of them together danced around his brain, until he got the sudden urge to vomit.

"No way!" Terry shouted. "When?"

"End of last month."

Neville heart pounded. She had kissed a bloke that recently?

"How was she?" Terry asked, snapping Neville out of his trance.

"Fucking fantastic," Oliver said. "She's bloody fit."

Neville swallowed hard. Oliver continued to watch him with determined eyes.

"What about you, Longbottom?" he asked. "You pulled any birds?"

Neville's mouth grew dry. "N-no."

"Not even after the whole Ministry thing? I'm surprised. Women love that hero shit."

Neville remained silent. He had the strong urge to punch Oliver square in his manky face. He could tell the boy was deliberately holding this over his head. Somehow, Oliver must have known Neville fancied Lenore. Neville realized he could have remembered their time together during the pre-O.W.L.s party. Oliver was acting a little too righteous to not know something. Neville had about a thousand questions for Oliver, but he knew he could not ask a single one of them. He could not ask Lenore either, that would be too weird. He sat completely still, his stomach tossing and turning violently as he sensed Lenore slipping away from him slowly. He felt like such an idiot. It was clear she would never fall for him when she could have Oliver. Neville suddenly became aware Oliver was talking.

"Anyway," Oliver said, "Norie was the best I've had this summer. God, the way her lips felt against mine—"

At that moment, the door swung open and Lenore entered the kitchen. She furrowed her brow as her eyes passed over Neville and flew directly to Oliver. Her expression changed, from smiling to almost… annoyed?

"What are you doing here?" she stormed over and demanded the Ravenclaw.

"You've got to stop asking me that, love," Oliver drunkenly laughed.

"I'll stop asking when you stop showing up uninvited to my life," she crossed her arms.

Neville was utterly confused. Oliver stood up off the counter and wrapped his arms around Lenore. She flailed her body to get away from him, but he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Oliver!" she shouted. "Stop!"

He moved to her face, taking her top lip between his, but she immediately fussed, hitting him on the back with her fists and and releasing terrified noises that ripped Neville's heart apart. It was clear she did not want him touching her. She attempted to released herself from his arms, but he grabbed her once again. Neville instantly jumped from his seat and throttled Oliver around the neck with the crook of his elbow as Lenore kneed the Ravenclaw in the groin. He fell to the ground with a thud.

"What the fuck was that for?" he shouted.

"YOU FUCKING ATTACKED ME!" Lenore yelled.

Oliver laid on the tile floor clutching his balls. "Merlin's beard, you goddamn hussy, you acted like you wanted it!"

"I told you last time I didn't! Why would I this time?"

Oliver beat the white tiles with his fists and a single tear fell from his eye. "I thought you'd come around! Sorry! Geez!"

At once, Neville understood. Lenore had not wanted Oliver to kiss her, this time or the last time. Relief swept over his body, until he caught sight of Lenore's fearful face across from him. She stared down at Oliver with a mixture of fury and fear. She had just been taken advantage of, in front of two other people, and Oliver did not seem to be one bit sorry. Neville's anger boiled over, but he managed to stay calm.

"Oliver, you need to leave," said Neville.

"Terry!" he shouted viciously. "Tell him I'm not going anywhere."

Terry's mouth hung open, still surprised from the past minute's events. "Actually, mate… I… I think you should go."

Oliver spun his head around to his friend. "What?! I said I was sorry."

"Rivers," Terry hesitated, "you fucking assaulted her."

Oliver slowly stood from the ground, giving every one of them a dirty look. Terry took his arm, mouthed an apology to Lenore, and the pair of lads stumbled out of the kitchen, leaving Lenore and Neville alone.

Immediately, Lenore slumped to the cold floor. She buried her face in her hands as she bent her knees to her seated body. Neville sat close to her on the ground. His head pounded against his skull. Terry was right— she had just been assaulted. He could even imagine how she must feel right now.

"Are you okay?"

"I hate him so much," she whimpered into her hands.

Neville had no clue how to reply. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to pull her into a hug and say something witty to make her smile, but he could not do that. It did not feel right, and besides, he could not think of anything to say, much less something clever. He knew she would not want more undesired touching after this event, which was the only way up to that point he had been able to offer her some alleviation for her troubles. Words would only help so much, until he always found himself drawing a blank. He watched helplessly as she sat completely still, curled tightly into her own body in an attempt to find comfort.

Lenore sat up straighter. Neville was relieved to see she was not crying. She did, however, appear worn out. Her face slipped into an enraged appearance.

"I should have punched him."

"Y-you got him pretty good in between the legs."

She smiled faintly. "That's not enough."

"Is that the second time he's done that?" Neville asked quietly.

She shook her head. "That's the fir—"

But she stopped and furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm not sure. He's kissed me three times. The first time, you were there, he kissed my cheek and I didn't exactly say no. The second time…"

She made eye contact with him. "…was on your birthday, at that wedding."

Neville's eyes widened and he sucked his cheeks in. As he nodded, he noticed how apologetic Lenore's eyes seemed.

"I… I didn't exactly tell him no that time either. I mean, after a few seconds, I pulled away and said I didn't want to. But tonight I clearly said 'stop' and he kept going. That's what pisses me off the most. How do you not understand 'no?'"

"B-before you came in here," Neville said, "he was talking about that kiss at the wedding."

Lenore clenched her jaw. "What did he say?"

"H-he basically said it was a great kiss and you were 'bloody fit.'"

"It was not a great kiss, I don't know what bullshit he told you. I didn't kiss him, at all. I just…"

She looked down at her hands. "I let him use me. I didn't reciprocate. God, I'm so mad at myself. I shouldn't have let him do that. He… He just kept talking about how beautiful I was and somehow that's all it took to convince me. Neville," she turned to him, "I've never done that before. I've had guys pull stupid moves like that on me before and I shut it down so fast. You know Horatio Pershore?"

"The Slytherin a year below us?"

"Yes. This kid… One day I was wearing jeans with holes in them and he starts running his fingers on my skin in the holes above my knee. Any normal fourteen year old girl would think that is just the cutest. But you know what I did? I turned to him, stone cold face, and said, 'Did I give you permission to touch me?'"

Neville chuckled, as Lenore buried her face in her hands again. "Merlin," she said, "I'm such a bitch. But why wasn't I a bitch to Oliver? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you," he assured her. "You were scared."

Lenore was quiet for a moment before she said, "You know he told me he liked me? I think he was serious, too."

Neville shook his head. "He doesn't. He can't treat you like this if he really likes you."

Lenore sighed. "Neville, why are you the best boy I know?"

His breathing slowed as she sat up straight and looked him in the eye. "What the hell happened to you to make you so great?" she said. "I seriously can't find one thing terribly wrong with you. You don't say anything mean ever, you don't interrupt people when they're talking, and you don't try things on me, just those three things alone make you better than any male I've ever encountered. Can't you tell your gender to stop being such little pricks?"

Neville smiled sadly. "I wish."

His eyes lingered on hers for a while. She licked her lips, which caused a chill to run through his body. He had not realized quite how close she was to him until that moment. An inconsequential number of centimeters separated them. Neville almost scooted away out of respect, but something told him not to. He desperately needed to be close to her, even if they were not touching. Her body heat radiated over to him, along with her faint vanilla perfume and her minty toothpaste, which swirled in the air to create a scent more intoxicating than cheap tequila. His entire body ached for her touch, for her fingers to intertwine with his, for her arm to lean against his, for her enticing lips on his body, for any sign that she liked him as more than a friend. He knew he should not be thinking about this right now, but he could not stop. She was so lovely, inside and out, and he did not want to see her sad any longer.

"Thank you," she breathed, "for helping get Oliver off me."

"N-no problem."

He watched as her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again. For a split second, he thought she was going to kiss him. His lips parted in absolute agonizing anticipation as she leaned in. At the last second, she sighed and laid her forehead against her arms on her knee. A thought ran across Neville's mind: had she been waiting for him to kiss her? She couldn't have been. She just talked about how she was glad he never made a move on her. The thought made his stomach toss and turn. She did not like him, there was no way after that comment.

As Neville's thoughts frantically consumed him, he felt her head come to rest on his shoulder. Her body heat over took his own cool skin and she curled closer to him, her thigh touching his own. He wanted to kiss her so badly. He wanted to tilt her chin towards his face and take her bottom lip between his and kiss her until she saw fireworks, until she saw in him what he saw in her. He wanted her to be even closer to him than she already was, to feel her body and soul intertwined next to his. Every piece of his body cried out for her, to feel her, to know her, to appreciate her, like no other guy seemed to do. He wanted her so badly.

But he was so goddamn scared. No time in his life had ever elicited more fear than the present moment. Not seeing You-Know-Who, not battling Death Eaters, not visiting his parents each Christmas and being reminded that he would never have a normal, happy holiday like he read about in books. No, this was the most terrifying moment of his life and all he could do was sit there like an idiot and experience his stomach completing horrible, painful somersaults. She sighed against his arm and her warm breath travelled down his skin. She shifted her head so her limp lips could just barely be felt through his navy t-shirt. A shudder passed through his body as she touched her fingertips to the inside of his elbow.

At once, his stomach twisted so violently, he thought he would be sick. Wait. He was going to be sick. Neville scrambled up and leaned over the sink, where his watery stomach contents emptied into the shiny steel basin.

"Neville!" Lenore exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Neville's face remained in the sink. As he caught his ragged breath, she hurried over to him and placed a hand on his mid-back. She rubbed oversized circles into his shirt as he threw up one more time. He stood over the sink, panting heavily and embarrassed as hell. Lenore reached for a cloth hanging over the oven door handle and handed it to him.

"Here," she said tenderly.

Neville ran the cold water over the towel and wiped his face as the water dragged his vomit into the drain with a counterclockwise swirl.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked.

He shook his head, but found himself unable to speak.

Her hand continued to circle his back, which caused him to close his eyes and lean against his arms. "Are you sick?"

Again, he shook his head. He was so embarrassed he did not want to look at her. "N-no," he coughed. "I-I don't know what happened."

"Do you want a mint?" She fished into her purse that hung across her body, threw the bag off her and onto the counter, and out came a round green and white stripped candy.

Neville took it from her, finally making eye contact. Her green eyes stared at him with such care he thought he would be sick again. This was all in his head. His brain was so messed up, he could not believe his body had acted in such a way. He rinsed his mouth out with water, popped the mint in his mouth and shut his eyes.

"Don't be embarrassed," Lenore said sweetly.

"I-I'm trying," he breathed. "Merlin, what is wrong with me?"

"Not a thing," she said.

He sucked his mint harder to distract himself from her. The sweet and fresh taste of mint replaced the putrid bile scent in his mouth.

After a moment, she asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I-I-I'm fine," he stammered.

He watched her face scanning his. She gazed at him with all the kindness in the world. Her mouth hung slightly ajar and her body was a mere step away from his. She had not taken her eyes off him in forever. She stopped rubbing his back, her hand becoming still and finally clutching his shirt material. Neville's mouth opened slightly as she inched closer.

"Neville?" she whispered. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Neville's stomach clenched yet again. _Where did that come from?_ Before his brain could come up with a coverup response, his body betrayed him. He nodded and immediately gasped.

"Okay," she breathed.

She stepped closer to him and gradually brought a hand to his jaw. The closer she got, the more nervous Neville grew. _Is this really happening?_ This had to be a dream. His mind shut down and his body took over. He bent down so tortuously slow, never breaking eye contact with her. She stood on her toes and at once, his eyelids closed and her lips met his. How he felt was beyond mere words, her kiss was the most thrilling, ecstatic, gut-wrenching experience he had ever enjoyed. The sensation could not be explained in any other way besides complete and utter ecstasy that swallowed his entire being into excruciating happiness. She did not stop at one kiss, like he had expected her to do. She did not lean away, so he kept kissing her, taking her soft lips between his over and over, arduously slow, with such care. Neville heard himself whimper against her mouth but he immediately shut that down for fear of scaring her away. The mint in his mouth was shoved off to the side, pinned against his molars as he attempted to not choke on it. If anything, the mint only added to the sensation. She captured his bottom lip between hers a few times, then moved to his top lip.

He felt his entire body melt, his eyelids softened and his mouth loosely pressed against hers, as he tried to stop himself from nervously shaking. He could not remember where to put his hands, so he did not move them, instead he put his full focus into mimicking Lenore's lip motions. He figured she knew what she was doing. Her lips were so smooth as they glided across his. Neville tried to act as mellow as Lenore, but he could not shut his brain off. Her thumb lightly rubbed his jawline, which sent electrifying pulses across all his limbs.

"Neville," she pulled away to look at his face. "I fancy you."

Still a bit disoriented from the kisses, his mouth dropped open. He blinked a few times. "Y-you… what?"

"I fancy you."

He stared with wide eyes. He wanted to remember every detail of this moment. The way her smooth, thick hair fell in her face, how her deep emerald green eyes did not move from his, the shape of her perfect lips, which just moment ago had been on his. He was in disbelief. Had he heard her correctly?

"N-no," he said. "Y-you can't. W-what?"

"What do you mean I can't?"

"N-no!" he said quickly. "I-I just… You fancy me?"

She nodded.

"I fancy you, too, Len," he finally whispered.

"No shit," she grinned.

"W-what?"

"I can tell."

Neville furrowed his eyebrows. "I-I didn't know you could tell."

"I can," she said quietly. "Quite well. Now kiss me again."

"Wait," he spit the remaining sliver of his mint into the sink and took a sip of water. "Did I taste like vomit?"

"No," she laughed. "You were great."

He gingerly stepped closer to her once more, still unsure this was not a dream.

"Put your hands on my back," she instructed.

He wordlessly did as she said.

"You really don't have to be nervous," she said with a reassuring smile. "The first kiss was very nice."

"R-really?"

"Yes."

Lenore placed one hand in Neville's hair and the other on his jaw. She kissed him more passionately than the last. After the initial shock, Neville fell into the moment. He was more confident than before. He moved his hands across her back, pressing firmly into her skin. Lenore pulled her lips away from his just enough to smile briefly. Neville felt like he was sinking and floating at the exact same time. Falling deeply in love with this girl, yet so blissful he seemed to be floating in the clouds. He could not believe Lenore was in his arms, kissing him. He waited over a year for this moment and it did not disappoint.

He felt her wiggling next to him and he stared to lean away, until she directed his head closer to her lips. Without breaking contact, she inched her way onto the counter and pulled Neville between her legs. Her feet hung loosely against the back of his thighs, which she held with her knees. It took everything in Neville's body to stop him from moaning. The kisses were no longer innocent and delicate, but wild with desire. One of her hands gripped a tuft of hair on the back of his head, while the other pressed his jaw. His hands held on tightly to her back and he heard her making small noises of delightful approval against his mouth, which drove him mad. His heart pounded faster than it ever had in his life.

He fancied her so much. This kiss was everything he wanted for a year and a half and it was magnificent. Lenore was so beautiful, inside and out. As if the kiss wasn't already enough, his mind abruptly remembered that she fancied him, too. Knowing that she enjoyed the kiss as much as he did sent him over the edge. _She fanciess me_ , his brain screamed over and over. One of his hands found it's way to the back of her head and he deepened the kiss even more. She smiled against his mouth for a couple seconds, which gave him a deep sense of pleasure.

"Len," he breathed.

"Nev," she returned the grateful exhale and pulled herself tighter against his body.

Before he knew what was happening, his lips were not on Lenore's anymore. He moved to her jawline and then her neck. He kissed up and down her soft neck until he hit a crevice near her collarbone. She let out a small, "Mmm," and clutched a patch of his hair. Neville's stomach flipped so violently he thought he would be sick again. But it was not a bad feeling. Not like a few minutes ago. Not at all. On the contrary, he had never felt so wonderful in his life. Every movement of her body against his elicited excitement in his veins as he sucked on her skin and she writhed joyfully under his touch.

"What happened to you being shy?" she murmured playfully.

He responded by gently biting her neck.

She gasped. "Neville!"

He immediately tore away, believing she sounded angry. "S-sorry!"

"No!" she giggled. "I liked it!"

Neville's face flushed with deep embarrassment.

"You really got into it," she smiled.

All of a sudden, Neville's shyness crept back. He did not know how to reply. He merely sat in silence as his cheeks burned bright red.

"There's Shy Neville," Lenore said, pushing his hair away from his forehead. "But I also liked the other version of Neville I just saw."

"I guess I'm full of surprises."

"You're full of something."

Neville bit his lip, but it quickly turned into a smile. The pair wordlessly stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an hour, but it was really just a few seconds.

"You're a really good kisser," Lenore told him.

"R-really?" he said.

She grinned timidly, "Merlin, yes."

He smiled brighter than he had in a long time. The way she looked at him made him feel like a ray of sunshine burst from his heart. "I'd keep kissing you," she said shyly, "but I don't want to get carried away, you know?"

Neville nodded. Whatever she wanted was perfectly fine with him.

"Merlin," she exhaled. "I want to keep snogging you. But we can't. We have to go slow, okay?"

He nodded again, too nervous to speak. Lenore glanced at a clock on the wall behind him. "Shit, I told Dean I would only be a couple minutes. It's been like thirty."

"You'd better get upstairs then," he said.

"I actually came down here to find you and bring you upstairs, but I was rudely interrupted by Rivers."

"Merlin," he breathed, "I'm so glad you came downstairs."

"Me, too," she smiled. "Somehow it worked out in the end."

Neville exhaled and shook his head, watching this girl with so much affection and devotion. "I can't believe you fancy me."

"I can't believe you forced me to make the first move," she laughed.

"God, I was so nervous. Lenore, you have no idea."

"Is that why you threw up?" she asked suddenly, but gently, as she touched a hand to his elbow.

He nodded and felt his cheeks grow hot again.

"I figured," she said. "I don't know what the hell I did, but I could tell it sent you off."

"Literally, you just existing does that to me," he said, before slamming his lips together.

She laughed. "You can say that now. It's all out in the open."

"Not all of it," he said. "I don't want to scare you away."

She smiled. "One day, it all will be. Come on," she slid her fingers down his arm and grabbed his hand as she jumped off the counter. "Let's go find Dean."

 **.**

 **THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER**

"Hey!" Margaux shouted over the thumping music. "Have you seen Derek?"

"I haven't!" Ginny replied.

"Me neither!" Luna said.

Margaux sighed. "He asked me to hold his drink nearly fifteen minutes ago! I'm about to throw it away."

"Don't waste the alcohol!" Ginny said.

"Well, I'm not drinking it!" She swirled the liquid around the cup and watched as the pink liquid twirled in a clockwise circle. "I guess I'll go look for him."

Margaux checked the kitchen first. She peeked in and saw Neville and Terry on the counter, but no Derek. She searched the entire downstairs, from the dining room to the laundry, with no luck. The only place left was upstairs. She decided it would be fine to go upstairs, but she would not open any bedroom doors, for fear of seeing something she would regret. Her feet scaled the steep stairs and she entered the walkway above the living room. To her left, Dean sat on the floor, staring blankly ahead towards the large, pitch black living room windows. When he heard her footprints, he turned to face her and immediately smiled. "Hi, Mar. What are you doing up here?"

"Oh," she glanced around. "I'm actually looking for Derek. Have you seen him?"

"Nope," Dean said.

"Fuck it, then." She gulped down the rest of Derek's drink as Dean's eyes widened.

"Aren't you not supposed to be drinking?"

She waved her hand. "It was like half this cup and it was just rum with Hi-C chaser. That won't even make me tipsy. Are you sitting up here alone at your own party?"

"Your sister was sitting with me. She just left to find Neville."

Margaux puffed out her lips. Her sister and Neville were beginning to get on her nerves with their constant back and forth flirting, but never doing anything about it. This was not how normal people were supposed to act. "They are so weird. He just needs to tell her how he feels."

"Wait," Dean said. "You… know?"

"Of course I do! I've got eyes. He's fancied her since at least November, I would guess. Probably longer."

"It's… it's probably been a little over a year."

She nodded. "I told you I can tell these things."

"She told me she fancies him, too. But I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Ha! I know. One of them needs to suck it up and do something about it."

Dean nodded. "Did you want to sit down?"

She glanced down to the spot he patted on the carpet. "Sure," she hesitated. "I've got nothing else to do."

Dean turned his body to face her as she sat on the ground and leaned against a wall behind her. "So," she said, "I notice the music has gotten better in the last half-hour."

"Lenore convinced me to play muggle music instead."

"Good choice. Wizard music is all so boring."

"Not super danceable, no."

"Children of the Cauldron are pretty upbeat, but other than that…"

"ACCIO YOUTH is decent for dancing."

"Yeah, but their lyrics are so generic. 'Night on Fire?' That entire song just feels like recycled lyrics they stole from any indie band. Like they sat in a dive bar, watching some nobody, probably called 'WiLD CHiLD who spells her name all uppercase except for the vowels, listening to her croon out her boring words as the bassist of ACCIO YOUTH shouts out, 'WRITE THAT DOWN, WRITE THAT DOWN!' to the lead singer who is scribbling furiously with an oversized peacock feather as a quill."

Dean laughed. "That was very specific. But probably all true."

As his sentence ended, the next song came up on shuffle. "Friday I'm in Love" by The Cure played over the loud speakers. Margaux's mind flashed back to a night she had spent with Michael. They went out to eat at a local Italian restaurant and then decided to explore the neighborhood. The couple came across a block party downtown, where the locals danced to bad music, and ate unhealthy food, and played boring games, but it was still an exciting time. Margaux was playing a carnival game, when Michael decided to undermine her throwing ability. He said, "Step aside and let a man do it," which angered Margaux. They got in a fight about his sexism, and he had the nerve to insult her intelligence, on top of her sportsmanlike qualities. All the while, that song played in the background as the attendees tore up on the makeshift dance floor.

"I hate this song," she muttered.

Dean looked over to her. "Why?"

"It reminds me of Michael."

He squinted. "What? Shouldn't that be a good thing?"

"It should be…"

Margaux's surroundings seemed to be slipping away from her. She heard the thumping of the music, but no longer noticed the lyrics or the subtleties of the beat. Her mind seemed to be in its own little dark cave, unaware of the outside world, of the party below her, of Dean to her left. Michael was pissing her off lately, but she never said anything to him about it. She decided she was being way too nice to him.

Dean waved his hand in front of her face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she shook her head loosely, snapping out of her trance. "Sorry! I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

She shook her head again. "You don't want to hear it."

"No," Dean said. "I do. If you want to tell me, I'll listen."

Margaux thought a moment, still avoiding eye contact with the boy next to her. She desperately wanted to tell him, just to get it off her chest. She had no one else to tell. Only Dean had ever met Michael for an extended period of time, maybe he would understand the context behind his actions. Margaux glanced up from her hands and the look in her eyes must have screamed complete anguish, because Dean physically recoiled. She adjusted her facial expression to neutral. "You know what Michael said to me before I left for here?"

Dean shook his head and watched her lips quaver.

She took a deep breath. "He said he didn't like the idea of me going to another boy's house when there was alcohol around. I mean, how bitchy was that?"

Dean's mouth dropped open. "He said that to you?"

She nodded. "Yes! Dean, I didn't know what to say! I should have yelled at him. I should have broken up with him, honestly. He's never said anything like that to me before. He really is a sweet guy, but I think he thinks this relationship is more serious than it actually is."

"Mar," he said softly, "that's not being sweet. That's being territorial. What is he going to do when you're back at Hogwarts? What if he starts trying to control you?"

Margaux stomped her foot on the ground in frustration. "I'm so mad at myself. I try to be a good, strong feminist but then I let him say that to me? What the fuck?"

"What did you say?"

"I just kind of laughed it off, but I think that upset him," she shrugged.

"Okay," Dean scooted closer to her. "Role play with me. I'm Michael. I'm going to tell you not to hang out with other boys. You tell me what you are going to say to him next time."

Margaux smiled. "Okay."

Dean rolled up his sleeves and puffed out his chest.

"Stop," Margaux giggled. "You're mocking him."

He grinned and forced his voice to sound deeper, "So, uh, what're you up to tonight, Margaux?"

She played along, "Remember Dean from the bowling alley? I'm going to his house for a party."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "Dean? I don't know if I want you hanging out with such a stud all by yourself. My masculinity is threatened by a man like him."

Margaux laughed and nudged his shoulder. "Be serious!"

Dean cleared his throat. "Alright, alright… Margaux, I don't like the idea of you hanging out alone with other boys."

Margaux sat up on her knees. "Well, that's just too fucking bad then, Michael. I'm going to this party whether you like it or not. You don't own me."

Dean laughed. "Alright, now tell me what you actually said."

"I said, 'Oh, ha ha. Okay.' And I think he took that to mean I wasn't going, but here I am," she gestured to the party downstairs.

He set the music player down on the speaker it was connected to by a thin wire. "Doesn't the first option sound better?"

"It does," she smiled. "I don't know why he's acting like this. In my mind, I'm mad at him, but when I'm around him, I just… You don't want to hear about this."

"No," Dean said, "tell me."

Margaux rolled her eyes. "In my mind, he annoys the shit out of me. But as soon as I get around him, I melt. That sounds dumb as fuck, I know, but I really do. I think I perceive him differently in individual situations. Remember how I told you I like the idea of him better than him? I think I had it backwards. I don't like the idea of him, of having a boyfriend. But I like him, you know?"

Dean's face showed nothing but confusion. "If we're being honest, no, I don't know."

Margaux huffed. "I don't know either. It's all too much."

He seemed to pause. "Then break up with him."

Margaux smiled. "Have you not been listening? I like him."

"Merlin, Mar," he sighed. "You are so confusing."

She glanced down to her pocket as she heard the faint buzzing of the Henry family's black, brick shaped mobile phone. She reached down to view the glowing screen.

"Speak of the devil," she sighed.

"It's Michael?"

She nodded.

"Don't answer it!"

"What? Why?"

"Don't you think that's weird? That he's calling to check up on you? To make sure you're not with another guy?"

"No," she waved him off. "He always calls me around this time on the weekends, after he gets off work."

"Mar," Dean said, "don't answer it. This is so suspicious."

She ignored him and pressed the green button. "Hi, Michael!"

As she made small talk, Dean watched her face gradually fall.

"No… Well, yes, I'm at the party… No, I'm here with my friend Ginny… No, I haven't talked to him…"

She glanced up at Dean and he felt his stomach twist into a knot. Michael was asking about him, he just knew it. "Listen, Michael… I just think… Okay then, go on…"

Dean could hear the boy's voice blabbering on across the phone line. "Hang up," he hissed to Margaux.

She plugged her ear as not to hear Dean. "Michael, I've got to go… No, just stop talking, okay? Why? Because I'm tired of hearing your voice, to be completely fucking honest."

She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry! Hello?"

Margaux groaned loudly as she let her phone drop out of her hand. She turned to Dean, "The fucker hung up on me!"

"What?" Dean gasped. "That's so immature!"

"You're telling me!" she huffed.

Margaux looked out over the party as her heart wildly thumped against her ribs. She was beginning to sweat. Her eyes glossed over as she nearly whispered, "He told me a few weeks ago that he was smarter than me."

Dean scooted closer to her. "Margaux, that is absolute bullshit. The boy has chlorine in his brain."

She smiled, but then quickly frowned.

"Why did you let him do that?" Dean asked.

She shrugged. "A lot of boys do that. I just assumed it was a joke. I was angry, it was a stupid joke, but now that I'm looking back I think he truly believes it."

"You can't let him talk to you that way. It's only going to get worse."

She swung her head around to Dean so quickly that it startled him and she hissed, "You think I don't know that?"

Tears stung her eyes. She choked back a break in her voice. "What am I supposed to do? I'm so mad at myself, Dean. WHY DO I LIKE HIM?"

Margaux's mind worked in overdrive. She desperately needed to stop talking, to stop thinking about this, but she could not. Every shitty thing Michael had ever done to her filled her consciousness, even things that were not all that horrible. When he interrupted her as she talked. When he attempted to explain things to her as if she was a child. When he ignored her to play video games. It all culminated in her head and she could not stop herself from ranting.

"Sometimes he's so nice to me, but every so often, he'll make a comment that I know holds more meaning than he is willing to admit. He's got a masculinity issue. Doesn't that piss you off? How boys are expected to achieve a certain false level of masculinity, and if they feel like they won't reach that level, they overcompensate and end up treating girls like shit? I wish I could just scream at all of society, 'STOP ENDANGERING MEN WITH THE ILLUSION OF MASCULINITY,' but I can't. Goddamn it, I can't. Every fucking boy I know does this shit. I'm going to spend my entire life dealing with this. There is no escaping it, because it is everywhere."

She was now breathing incredibly heavy. Her limbs tingled, her hands and feet went numb. Her head pounded with each pulsating beat of her heart. She was burning up, so she removed her thin cardigan from her shoulders and tied it around her waist. She avoided Dean's eyes, but she knew he was looking at her.

"Margaux, are you okay?"

She closed her eyes. "No," she gasped between breaths. "I'm having a fucking panic attack."

"Y-you what?"

She took deep inhalations in an attempt to regulate her breathing. "A panic attack! Remember I told you I have anxiety!"

"Oh god, Mar, what can I do to help?"

She glanced up to his eyes, which stared at her with such concern. "D-do you have a pillow so I can lay down?"

"Yes!" he said. "Do you want to lay down on my sister's bed?"

She nodded. "That… that will help."

She tried to stand up, but with her numb feet, all she could do was get on her knees. Dean offered her a hand, but she shook her head. "I'll crawl."

"Margaux," he said, "don't."

He picked her up with relative ease, which surprised her. She was small, but muscular, so she was not exactly a dainty feather. Dean opened the door to his sisters' room and placed Margaux on top of the sky blue comforter on the lower bunk bed. She covered her face with a corner of the sheets. "This… this is so em-embarrassing."

"It's fine," he murmured. "Just keep breathing, Mar. You're doing so good."

The blanket remained over her face, as she focused on reducing her short, sharp breaths. Her eyes were sealed shut, but the inside of her eyelids projected colorful, crisp, and quick fireworks which caused her incredible dizziness. She felt like she was on a row boat, rocking back and forth as the never-ending waves of a hurricane pounded her sides. She was hazily aware that Dean sat next to her on the bed, mere centimeters from her leg, but with the sheet over her face, she could not tell if he was looking at her or not. Hopefully not. This was mortifying enough. She flipped onto her stomach and shoved the comforter back in its place. She was careful not to get makeup on the child's pillow, so she laid on her arms.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

She took a few more deep breaths. Her normal breathing had nearly returned, but her limbs still ached and her head throbbed.

"Better, but not great."

Dean gave her two short pats on the back. "Is there anything I can do?"

Her voice deepened. "Take your hand off my back."

"S-sorry," he pulled away quickly.

Margaux cringed. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I sounded angry. I didn't meant to, really. You're being so nice. Thank you."

"N-no problem."

Margaux noticed how much he was stammering. Dean almost never stuttered. She was obviously making him nervous. He really was being so sweet to her. Tonight and always. Dean would never treat her like Michael did.

The thought caused her to gasp out loud. Comparing Dean and Michael? What had gotten in to her? She flipped over to look at Dean's face. His eyes watched her with more care than she had ever experienced in her entire life. He seemed to want to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. His brown eyes never left her own green ones.

"Dean," she whispered. "Tell me, honestly, should I break up with Michael?"

He swallowed. "Y-you said you fancy him?"

"I... guess. I just don't think he's worth all this."

"He's not," Dean said. "He's not at all. Do you think he fancies you? Or do you think he fancies being able to say he has you?"

Her lips parted and her eyes widened. "I… I don't know. He says he does. But then he's rude sometimes."

Dean bit the side of his cheek. "I don't know, then. Personally, I think you should break up with him. He doesn't treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

Margaux's eyes observed his every blink. Dean really was handsome. His sculpted cheekbones, his beautiful hair, his perfect smile, all of it combined to make him one of the most fit boys she had ever seen. She had never felt this way about him before. Obviously, Dean was attractive, but she had never personally found him attractive, if that made sense. She just simply never considered his looks in regards to any of her personal feelings. Plus, Dean was always so sweet to her. He had matured quite a bit this past year. That's more than she could say for most boys. Quite a few boys were scared of her because of her overbearing personality, but not Dean. He seemed to appreciate her for her, and not because she was pretty, which was the reason she assumed quite a few boys talked to her. Not Dean, though. He took in her every word because he wanted to hear what she had to say, not because he wanted to get with her. She glanced up at him. He continued to stare at her, even smiling with closed lips as her eyes met his. He really was one of the most kind-hearted, fun, caring boys she ever met.

Margaux shook these thoughts from her head, but they consumed every fiber of her brain. She sat straight up, so that her body was less than an arm's length away from his.

"Dean," she whispered, "how can you tell when somebody actually fancies you?"

He answered, without skipping a beat. "They are there for you when nobody else is."

Her lips parted as she stared at him. His reply seemed to have startled him, but he never took his eyes off hers. Her eyes flickered from Dean's lips, then back to his eyes and she caught him doing the same. Before she could stop herself, her hands found his jaw and she leaned in until their lips met.

Her insides felt like a pane-glass window had shattered and broke into a thousand sharp, triangular pieces, with each shard of glass lodging its way into her organs. Except, instead of glass, the shards turned into the physicalization of happiness and desire and care. Dean deepened the kiss and placed a hand in her hair. Her hands traced his jaw until they came to rest on the back of his neck.

Suddenly a thought swept across her mind: she had a boyfriend.

She was cheating on her boyfriend.

And she did not care.

She kissed Dean even more passionately, as her hand gripped the hair on his upper neck. He took her lips between hers with haste, as if he could never get enough of her, but so skillfully it made her stomach twist itself into knots. When her tongue traced his lip, she heard him let out a low whimper, which only excited her more. He kissed her so wonderfully, with so much care and appreciation. Margaux could not stop herself from lowering Dean down onto the bed and climbing over him, without breaking their contact. His hands gripped her back as she ran her hands all over his chest. Their kisses were quick and deep, consuming her entire soul.

She wanted him close to her so badly. She had never experienced this amount of affection in her entire life. He was her source of comfort at the moment, which she realized was problematic, but she simply did not care. She wanted him and he seemed to want her, so she kept kissing him, their tongues dancing around each other as her hips touched his body every so often and he groaned. She heard herself let out a quiet gasp when he bit her lip, but she chose to ignore it and instead lowered herself even closer to him.

"Wait, Margaux," he panted between kisses.

She pulled away and at once their eyes met. She gasped and removed herself from him.

"I'm so sorry," she said, receding to the other side of the bed. She stood up, "Dean, I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I-I'm with Michael. Oh God, I'm an awful person."

"N-no," he said, still discombobulated from the snogging. "You're not awful."

"Oh god," she drew a sharp breath. "I don't fancy you and you don't fancy me and I just kissed you! Dean, I can't do this! I have to go! Dean, I'm so sorry!"

She backed away from him, staring into his scared eyes, until her hand met the doorknob. The colder air of the hallway attacked her body as she shut Dean in the bedroom. She turned for the stairs and her eyes met her sister's. Lenore stared at her in confusion. Neville also watched her. Margaux shook her head and ignored the two as she bounded down the stairs in search of her friends and some bitter alcohol, in a half-hearted attempt to cleanse herself of her sins.

 **.**

 **ONE MINUTE EARLIER**

"Oh hey," Neville said to Lenore said as they walked through the crowded living room hand in hand, "I never told you, thank you for my birthday present."

She glanced back at him with a smile. "You liked it?"

"I loved it. I've read quite a bit of it and it's very well written."

"I didn't understand a word," she laughed. "But the pictures were lovely."

Neville grinned. He knew Lenore was exaggerating how little she understood it. She was a bright witch, even if Herbology was difficult for her. She let go of his hand at the bottom of the staircase and led him upstairs, where they heard a bedroom door creak open. Margaux ran out, her eyes making contact with Lenore's for a split second, before she hurried down the steps without a word. She moved faster than Lenore had ever seen her. Also emerging from the same bedroom, Dean, looking dazed, entered the hallway. He gasped when he saw a shocked Neville and Lenore.

Lenore spoke first. "What the hell was that?"

"I… She… We…" Dean seemed utterly confused. His eyes begged Neville for help, but the boy had no idea what to do or say or even what had just happened.

"Why were you and Margaux in a bedroom?"

"She…" Dean shook his head. "Merlin, I don't know. She was having a panic attack because of something Michael said to her, and I told her to lay down, and the next thing I know, she kissed me."

"SHE KISSED YOU?" Lenore shouted. "WHAT?"

Dean nodded. "I-I don't know why. She more than kissed me. Merlin, we snogged. I snogged Margaux… She was on top of me, holy fuck. She said it was a mistake and then she ran off. I'm… I'm just as confused as you are."

Lenore peered over the walkway railing. Margaux was downstairs in the middle of the room with her three friends and she seemed perfectly okay. Lenore shook her head and turned back to Dean. "She made out with you? Jesus Christ, Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean sucked in his cheeks and looked at the ground. "I-it's okay."

Neville glanced between Lenore and Dean. "Why are you sorry? Isn't this good?"

"No," Lenore said. "She's not going to break up with Michael, as far as I know. She just snogged Dean and left him hanging. Does she know you fancy her?"

Dean shook his head. "N-no. She said something like, 'You don't fancy me and I don't fancy you,' before she ran off. I-I think it was an accident. I think… I think she got caught up in the moment and just wanted to try to kiss someone other than Michael, to… to test, you know?"

Lenore put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I'll talk to her."

"Please don't," he begged "I really just don't want us to be weird around each other. Oh God…" He slumped to the floor. "What if she never talks to me again?"

"Dean," Lenore sat next to him, "it'll all be okay, I promise."

"It will," Neville said, putting an arm around his mate. "She just needs time to think."

Dean bit his lip. His breathing quickened and his frustration boiled over. "I'm just so tired, you know? I'm tired of trying and getting nowhere and now any progress I've made is all ruined. She's never going to have feelings for me, especially after tonight. I'll be surprised if she ever talks to me again."

"Dean," cooed Lenore, "it's going to be okay. This is just how she acts. She gets over things quickly, I promise. By next week, she'll be talking to you again like normal."

"This is different. I could just tell by her eyes. Goddamn it," he stomped his foot on the ground, "I need to get over her."

Lenore stared at him for a while. "You fancy her a lot, don't you?"

Slowly, he nodded. "More than I think I let on."

"Honey," Lenore whispered. "Don't give up. She's not good at handling feelings. Neither of us are. We were raised to ignore emotions, to put them to the side. That's just how it is in our family. She could still fancy you. Remember, she's a year younger than you. We were all a little emotionally unstable last year, with all that teenage angst. Just give her time."

After a moment, Dean nodded. "I'm just so tired."

"Mate," Neville offered, "that's how I felt sometimes."

He noticed Lenore shift her eyes to his face and his stomach clenched. As he spoke, she watched him

"Sometimes, you look at her and think 'Maybe today is the day she'll give me a sign, any indication that she fancis me,' but she never does. You'll get discouraged, you'll feel sorry for yourself, you'll even be angry for chasing someone you know you shouldn't have a chance with, but one day, it will pay off. And if it doesn't, that… that's okay, too. At least you know you allowed yourself to care about someone. That's the ultimate human connection."

Lenore laid a hand on top of Neville's arm, careful not to touch Dean's shoulders. His eyes met hers and she smiled softly at him. He watched her in admiring disbelief, still amazed that she had kissed him.

"He's right," Lenore offered. "You'll feel all that. But it's worth it in the end, I'm sure."

Dean rolled his eyes. "What the hell took you two so long? You left me up here for half an hour!"

Lenore smiled to Neville. "Should we tell him what happened?"

"I-I think so," Neville said. "O-or we could show him."

She squealed with laughter. "You are such an opportunist!"

He shrugged and smiled.

"Show me, then," Dean gestured. "What? You got a scar breaking up a fight or something cool?"

Lenore smiled at Neville, crawled over to him, grabbed his face and kissed him. The butterflies danced in his stomach as he touched a hand to her cheek and she took his lips in hers. Their third kiss. He wondered if he would ever stop counting.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Dean exclaimed. "HOLY FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. THIS HAPPENED IN THIRTY MINUTES?"

The pair leaned away, both grinning like idiots.

"Keep up," Lenore snapped her fingers at Dean.

Dean's eyes shifted between the two so rapidly Neville did not understand how he could see anything. Finally, he stopped at Neville. "Mate," he said, "how the fuck did you manage this? In thirty minutes? Holy fuck, you've been after her forever and she just fucking kissed you!" He turned to Lenore with a huge smile. "You kissed him! Holy shit."

Neville shrugged. "It just happened."

"He threw up and I felt bad, so I kissed him," Lenore joked.

Dean's mouth released odd noises of confusion. "Lenore," he said, "do you mind if I steal my mate away for a couple seconds? I'd like to properly celebrate, man to man. You can DJ since you missed the last thirty minutes."

"Go ahead," she waved them away.

Dean stood and motioned for Neville to follow him into a bedroom at the far end of the hall. Neville was nearly blinded by all the lime green as he entered the empty child's room, not to mention the hundred posters of Disney Channel stars grinning back at him. Exactly as the door slammed shut, Dean screamed, "MATE!"

Neville faced him and shouted, "I KNOW."

"YOU KISSED HER. SHE KISSED YOU. OH MY GOD. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?"

"I don't exactly know. It's such a weird story...

Neville recounted the events of the last hour, from his conversation with Oliver to him vomiting in the sink to Lenore's comments that Neville kissed well.

"HOW DID IT FEEL?" Dean shouted. "Merlin, you kissed her. You more than kissed her, you basically snogged her! You've fancied her for like a year and half, Neville! Jesus Christ, and she kissed you first."

"Dean," he grinned, "I can't tell you how great it feels to know she fancies me. It opens up a whole other set of doors for me to be anxious around her, though."

"Be anxious in between all the snogging you're about to do."

Neville's inside danced with giddiness. "I fancy her so much. Okay, but mate, how are you, really?"

Dean's face fell. "I'm… fine. I don't know. I'm conflicted."

"That's okay," Neville said. "Take your time and think about it."

Dean shook his head. "Merlin, was it a good kiss, though."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"God, yes," he sighed. "I can't even explain how I felt. Neville, she's so bloody good at it, I mean, bloody hell. If she hadn't pulled away, I don't think I would have been able to pull away myself, which I know I should have done, given her position, but… holy hell, was she beautiful."

Neville nodded. "That's great. At least when you're thinking about all this, you know what it's like to kiss her."

Dean closed his eyes and groaned. "That makes it even more of a difficult decision."

"It'll be fine. Whatever you choose, I'll support you."

Dean grinned. "I can't trust you now, though."

"Why?"

"You're no longer an unbiased source, since you'll be fucking her sister."

Neville cringed as his cheeks burned bright red. "N-n-no, I… I don't think we'll be doing that for a while. Or at all, ever. I-I still can't tell how much she fancies me. I definitely know it's not as much as I fancy her. One step at a time."

"I know," Dean laughed. "You need to take things slow. For your own sake as well. I can't imagine you having sex with her anytime soon. You would cum the second she even touches you."

Neville's face grew even warmer. He nudged Dean, who laughed. "Y-you're right, though," Neville said. "Merlin, is she a good kisser. I can't think about this right now."

"Then go back outside and get more comfortable around her!"

The boys opened the door and returned to Lenore, who smiled a greeting. "Have a nice boys chat?"

"Brilliant," Dean said.

"I should have gone to find Katie for a girls chat."

"I'm sure you hens will have plenty to discuss," he laughed.

The three of them sat in a circle around the music player. "So, does this mean you two will start dating?"

Neville's gaze flickered over to Lenore, who smiled at him. "I assume so," she said. "I figured we'd deal with that when we went back to school."

"Merlin," Dean shook his head. "I still can't believe this."

"Me neither," Neville exhaled. He could not stop staring at Lenore. He wanted her to be close to him again, rather than out of arms reach, and something told him she wanted that as well. The group sat and talked for while as more late-80s muggle music blasted from the speakers. Dean kept the conversation fun and lighthearted while Neville kept stealing glances to Lenore.

At 11:30, Lenore suddenly gasped. "I have to get Margaux! We're supposed to home soon!"

"It's not even midnight, Dean said, glancing over to a clock on the wall.

"We have to be home before midnight."

Dean started to speak into his wand-turned-microphone, but he stopped, covered the microphone and said to Lenore, "You better call for her."

She shot him a concerned glance and leaned into his wand. "Can I have Margaux Henry come upstairs, please? And Katie Bell. Margaux and Katie come upstairs."

As the group waited for the two girls, Lenore turned to Neville. "I'm going to kiss you goodbye now, because I don't want them to see me, okay?"

"O-okay," he stammered, a little unsure why she did not want them to see.

"It's just easier if I explain it first than let them see it and I don't have time to explain," she said, as if reading his mind.

She scooted over on her knees to him, intertwined her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, and gave him a quick kiss.

"God, this again," Dean sighed. "Are you gonna keep rubbing it in my face?"

Lenore pulled away with a smile, never breaking eye contact with Neville. "Number four," she said.

"Trust me, I've been keeping count," he breathed.

"Goodnight," she smiled. "I'll see you at school."

"Goodnight," he said.

As she let go, Neville placed a hand over hers on his shoulder. "Lenore?"

"Yeah?"

Neville stopped. He did not know what to say. He simply felt like there was something he should say, like when couples say, "Love you, bye," except they did not love each other and this was a goodnight, not a goodbye.

"I-I don't know," he admitted. "I just felt like there was something else I should say, but I don't know what."

"What?" she laughed.

"I don't know, ignore me."

She flipped her palm over and squeezed his hand. She whispered with a grin, "Goodnight, Neville."

"I'm getting out of here," Dean asked as he heard footsteps near the stairs. He hurried into his bedroom and shut the door.

Lenore whipped her hand away from Neville as Margaux slowly stepped up to the last stair and glanced around, seemingly searching for Dean. She breathed a sigh of relief, "What do you want?"

Lenore turned to the two girls. "We have to go, Mar. And Katie, I just wanted to let you know we were leaving."

"I'll come with you!" Katie said. "I have to be up early tomorrow. I still haven't packed."

Margaux led the way, followed by Katie. Lenore turned to Neville.

"Neville, keep me in your thoughts. Pray I don't cuss my sister out."

He grinned. "Okay. Go easy on her. She's having a rough time, too, I'm sure."

She nodded, but puffed out her lips. "I guess. Well, I'll see you on Monday."

"Bye, Lenore."

 **.**

When he was certain the girls were gone, Dean reemerged from his bedroom. Neville still sat upstairs, grinning to himself.

"What's your problem?" Dean laughed as he returned to his spot.

Neville shook his head and then exhaled deeply. "Lenore kissed me. Me. She pressed herself against me. Her hands were in my hair. Merlin H. Wizard, she _fancies_ me."

Dean gave his friend a half-hearted smile. He wished he could be happier for Neville, but he was going through his own emotional turmoil. "That's great, mate."

Neville's smile never faded. "She's so wonderful. God, I'm so nervous though. I can't mess this up. Can you be excited and nervous at the same time?"

Dean nodded. "I wish that's how I felt right now."

Gradually, Neville's smirk receded. "Mate, how are you, for real?"

Dean stared off into the distance. He was not sure how he felt. On one hand, he was angry. On another, sadness consumed him. The boy would need to be an octopus to continue this metaphor of one hand per emotion. At the moment, only numbness took over his brain. He felt everything with such power that he felt nothing. He realized he desperately wanted to see how Margaux was acting at this moment. He did not want her to be sad, even though she had caused him so much pain.

"I… I'm fine. I'll be better once I get some time alone to think this through. It's killing me to know what Margaux is thinking right now."

Neville seemed to take a moment to think. "Call her."

Dean glanced up. "Call her?"

"Yes. Ask her how Margaux is acting."

Dean considered the idea. "You don't think that would be weird?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Lenore said she wanted to help you. Give them a half hour and then call her."

Dean reluctantly agreed. A half hour passed slowly then he retrieved the cordless phone.

After some fumbling, Neville figured out how to press the buttons. Dean stared at the screen for a moment before pressing the call button. "…What am I supposed to say?"

"You're asking me what to say to a girl?"

Dean shook his head. "No. You're right. How about I just say, 'Hey, this is Dean. Sorry to bother you, but how is Margaux acting?'"

Neville agreed that it sounded good but Dean still hesitated.

"What if her family answers? What if Margaux answers?"

"If her family answers, just ask to speak to Lenore. Say you need to ask her something. If Margaux answers, hang up. But Lenore tends to answer the phone. I've called her at different times of the day and her family doesn't answer the phone, it seems to be her job. I asked her one time and it's because her parents work and then at night they sit in front of a loud TV and don't hear it. And Margaux just doesn't do it because she doesn't want to talk to strangers."

Dean sighed. "Okay. I'll call. This is so weird. So weird. God, okay."

He pressed the call button. After a few agonizing seconds of waiting, a voice answered the phone. "Hello?"

It was a whisper, but it was definitely Lenore.

"Hi!" Dean said. "Hi, this is Dean. This is so weird, I know. I-I just... How is Margaux acting? I'm sorry."

"No! You're fine," Lenore said. "Hang on."

She seemed to be fumbling with the telephone, then he heard a door shut. "Sorry," she said. "I'm on the upstairs phone in the hall and I had to drag it to my room. How's Margaux acting? I have no idea. Normal. But... she just got off the phone with Michael."

Dean's eyes widened. "What did she say?"

Lenore voice lowered. "I was listening in. She didn't tell him about the kiss and I don't think she's going to. She... she said, 'I love you, too.'"

Dean's stomach twisted violently as the words flew over his ear. Without a word to Neville, Dean dropped the phone and buried his face in his hands. His mind spun into a dark void, leaving him completely thoughtless, consumed in his own brooding.

Neville could hear Lenore calling, "Hello?" over the line, so he picked up the phone.

"H-hi, Len, it's Neville."

"Hi," she smiled. "Is Dean okay?"

Neville glanced at Dean, whose face was in his hands. "W-what did you tell him?"

"Margaux told Michael she loves him."

"Oh," Neville gasped. "Well... Hang on. Can you give us a minute?"

"Of course."

Neville placed the telephone on the ground and turned his attention to Dean. "She… she told him she loves him?"

Dean sighed heavily and Neville knew at once he was not okay. His breathing was sharp, quick, a panic. "Mate, I can't do this. I can't. I don't like her anymore. I can't."

"No," Neville offered, "mate, just keep at it. She'll come around some time, I promise. If she kissed you, she must feel something."

"Neville, don't you understand?" Dean let out an anguished breath. "I love her."

Neville's jaw fell open. "You… you love her?"

"God, it sounds so stupid coming out of my mouth," Dean stomped the ground. "I do. I know I do. I love her. Don't you feel that way with Lenore?"

"I-I…" he seemed to be thinking. "I can't say I love her. That's a lot. Like, _a lot_ a lot. I fancy her a great deal. More than I ever imagined myself fancying her when I met her. And I can see myself loving her, after a few dates or whatever. But… I don't know."

"Oh Merlin," Dean moaned into his hands. "If you don't even love Lenore, I must sound completely mental!"

"No! If… if you feel that way, then you feel that way. It'll be okay."

Dean laid out on the ground and stared at the ceiling. He noticed a small crack in the drywall and made a mental note to remind his father it required patching. His eyes closed as he said, "It's not going to be okay though."

"You don't know that."

"I do, though."

Neville swallowed audibly. "What… what do you want me to say to Lenore?"

Dean placed the crook of his elbow over his face. "Just tell her thanks and goodnight."

Neville picked up the telephone once again. "Len?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Yeah?"

"Dean says thank you and goodnight."

"Wait!" she said. "How is he?"

"He's... he's not taking it well, but don't worry."

"Nev," she whispered. "Take care of him, please."

"I will."

"Alright." Her voice was even quieter than before. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"And thanks for the snog."

He could hear her giggles, so he exhaled a bit laughter. "N-no problem. H-hopefully... w-we can do that again sometime."

"Oh, we will," she teased. "Goodnight, Nev."

His stomach churned. "Goodnight, Len."

The telephone clicked and she had hung up. The second he set the phone on the receiver, Dean groaned. "I hate this. I hate everyone. I hate my life. I hate Margaux."

"You don't."

"I hate what she did to me," he sat up so quickly that Neville visibly retreated. "I hate that I know how great she feels on top of me. I hate that she kissed me and she was so bloody good at it. I hate that I've seen her so vulnerable and I couldn't do anything except kiss her, when I shouldn't have put myself in that situation to begin with. I hate myself for not telling her how I felt before all this Michael drama. Merlin, I hate myself most of all. I wish I could just scream."

At once, the realization dawned on him and he stood up. "I'm going outside to scream."

As he made his way toward the steps, Neville asked, "You're not really, are you?"

"Come on, Longbottom," Dean ushered him down the carpeted stairs. "Come scream with me."

The two boys exited the party through the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. Dean scuffed to the garden and stood on a stepping stone. Neville joined him along the pathway, careful to avoid stomping on any plants. Dean peered up to the night sky, which tonight took on a strange greyish-red tone from the nearby London air pollution. The stars could not be seen through this smog, but it comforted Dean to know the atmosphere was having just as bad a night as he was.

"On three, we scream. One… two… three…"

The scream travelled from Dean's diaphragm, up his throat, across his tongue, and out his mouth. His lips vibrated as the scream overtook his entire body. He had no thoughts or emotions or ideas, only screaming. Neville yelled along with him, albeit with less vigor. The sounds filled his ears until they went numb, never once stopping to allow him a breath. The scream filled his mind completely until he collapsed to the ground and sat on the stepping stone. He buried his face in his knees and tears stung his eyes.

Neville slowly sat next to him in the dirt. He did not say a word and Dean knew he kept his eyes to the sky, as he did not know what to say. The pair sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. The thumping music of the party could not be heard with George's strong silencing charm, but only the faint, gruff barking of a large dog and the occasional automobile muffler echoed under the dome of red smog.

Dean sniffed. "I just wish she cared about me. Even just a little bit."

The barking grew louder and combined with the usual suburbia noises: a car rolling over the cracked streets, cicadas chirping in the trees, an airplane passing above. It all surrounded his ears and engulfed his body until it felt like the entire world and all its sounds came crashing down on his shoulders, crushing him into a fine sand, where he would blow away with the warm summer breeze.

"Dean," whispered Neville, "I'm sure she cares about you."

He was too tired to argue with Neville. Nothing the boy could say would alleviate his distress.

"I just want to go to bed," he said weakly.

"Do you want to kick everyone out?"

"No… I probably couldn't sleep anyway."

Neville glanced down to watch and noticed it was almost one a.m. "I was supposed to be home a while ago. But if you need me to stay, I will."

Dean shook his head. "Don't get in trouble for me."

Neville hesitated. "Okay, but mate, if you need me tomorrow, let me know. Sorry. I hope the rest of your night goes okay. It'll all work out."

Dean sat in silence, head in his lap, as Neville got up to leave. After about ten minutes of precious silence, he gathered the courage to reenter his house. The music played on shuffle, "This is How We Do It" by Montell Jordan currently blasted. Dean rolled his eyes at the couples grinding to this awful song. He plopped down on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness as "No Diggity," began to play.

Dean wished Lenore had not left him alone, giving Margaux an opportunity to talk to him. No, that was selfish. Neville got to kiss her because of that. He needed to direct his attention to himself and his own feelings. He really did love Margaux, but there was no way she would ever even fancy him after this. He made up his mind right then and there to get over her. Margaux would one day be a brief flicker in his memory.

"OI FINNIGAN! GET OVER HERE YA CLUNGE MUNCHER!"

Dean snapped from his thought as he witnessed Seamus running from the kitchen to the living room. Terry Boot tackled Seamus and they both fell over the couch, laughing hysterically. They scrambled up and raised their fists, play fighting in the middle of the room.

"Oi! Seamus!"

Seamus did not even acknowledge Dean's call. Instead, he continued to swing at Terry Boot, who returned the punches with a laugh. Dean lunged for Seamus and attempted to the drunken boy before he destroyed something or someone, but Seamus was too quick.

"Alright, break it up!" Dean shouted. "You're going to fucking wreck my house."

With that, Seamus swung at Terry, who backed into a floor lamp resting near the couch that was pushed against the wall. The lamp swiftly shattered and spread sharp glass across the carpet.

"Well, fuck!" Dean said. He tried to step in between the boys, ducking to avoid their punches.

As Seamus headed toward Terry, he threw a drink from the coffee table to the side. Instead of hitting Terry, the vodka and cranberry juice flew straight into Ginny Weasley, soaking her shirt.

"Stand aside, Thomas," a very drunk Angelina Johnson announced.

She took out her wand and performed a spell to unite the glass shards back into the shape of a lamp shade. She turned and pointed her wand at Seamus and Terry and shouted "Petrificus Totalus!"

Seamus and Terry's bodies immediately became immobile. Only their mouths could move. "HEY!" Seamus screamed.

"Thanks Angelina," Dean said, as he lifted the lamp off the ground and put it back in its proper place.

Angelina nodded and said, "I'll let them go in a minute when they calm down."

"I appreciate it," Dean said.

He shifted to Ginny. "You okay?"

She was holding the front of her shirt away from her body in an attempt to air it out. "I can't go home smelling like vodka. Mum will kill me."

"Here, I'll help you clean it," Dean said. "Follow me."

Dean led Ginny down the hall to the laundry room. "How much longer are you going to be here?" he asked.

"Probably until two. My mum thinks I'm at Fred and George's," she said.

"Okay, perfect," Dean said. He opened a clean laundry basket and fished around for a spare shirt. He pulled out one of Camila's oversized t-shirts that read "BACKSTREET BOYS" and tossed it at Ginny. "Go change into this and hand me your old shirt. I'll wash it in the sink with some detergent and toss it in the dryer."

Ginny looked down at the shirt. "What does 'Backstreet Boys' mean?"

"It's a Muggle band," Dean shrugged. "It's my oldest sister's shirt."

"As long as it's nothing bad," Ginny said. "They look like a group of gigolos."

She went to the bathroom and returned with her shirt for Dean. He filled the laundry room sink up with water and added a bit of laundry detergent. He swished it around in the water for a bit as Ginny sat on the counter in silence.

Suddenly, she said, "You fancy Margaux, don't you?"

Dean froze. Where did that come from? Margaux must have talked to Ginny after their ordeal tonight. Unless she didn't. He couldn't risk it. "Don't be daft. Of course not."

Ginny laughed. "I'm not stupid. That's how I can tell you fancy her."

"And you fancy Harry," Dean asserted. "I'm not stupid either."

Ginny turned the color of her hair. "How— how did you know that?" she sputtered.

"I see the way you look at him," Dean said. "Like a puppy following a treat."

Ginny crossed her arms and thought a moment. "Does Harry ever talk about me?"

"I wouldn't know, mate," Dean said. "Why don't you ask Ron?"

"I would never."

Dean hesitated. "Does Margaux talk about me?"

"Sometimes," Ginny admitted.

Dean perked up. "What does she say?"

He rinsed Ginny's shirt off in some running water.

"That's classified."

He tossed her shirt in the dryer and screwed the dial for thirty minutes. "Bullshit. Tell me."

Ginny laughed. "I cannot reveal that information."

"Yes, you can!"

"She hardly ever talks about you. Mostly just when you're being annoying."

Dean thought a moment. He jumped on the counter and sat next to Ginny. "Did she tell you what happened tonight?"

"No?"

Dean partially regretted bringing this topic up. He did not exactly feel right coming between Margaux and her best friend. But at the moment, he did not care. "She kissed me."

"SHE KISSED YOU?"

"She more than kissed me. She was on top of me on a bed."

"WHOA WHOA WHOA. BACK UP."

So, Dean told Ginny the story of the night's events, from Margaux's panic attack to their snog session to her running away. As he poured his heart out, Ginny appeared to be deep in thought, taking in his words and mulling them over.

"Oh, Dean, I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know why she did that."

"I do," he sighed. "Because I was there. That's the only reason. It could have been any boy there and she would have kissed him because she felt vulnerable."

Ginny placed an arm around his shoulder. They pair sat in silence for a few minutes, only the tumbling noise of the dryer to keep them company.

"I know how you feel," Ginny said after a while. "I've fancied Harry off and on for years. Literally, years. And he's given no sign he even acknowledges my presence."

"Margaux is the same. I don't think she could ever think about me in a romantic way."

Ginny nodded. After a moment, she asked, "How can we get them to notice us?"

"I don't know," Dean sighed, "but I would do anything for her to realize I can be more than just her friend. Got any ideas?"

Ginny shrugged.

Then, a thought crossed her mind. "What if—? No, it's stupid."

"What is it? I'm sure it's not."

"I was just thinking," Ginny said, "Margaux only notices you when she's annoyed with you, because that's the main times she really interacts with you—"

"Gee, thanks."

"No— listen. And I only talk to Harry when I'm around his friends. So, I was thinking… what if we pretend to date each other to get closer to them? It's crazy though, I don't want to seem like a stalker—"

Dean cut her off. "No, it's brilliant. We make them jealous!"

"Are you serious?" Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah!" Dean said. "I guarantee it will work on Harry. He's the jealous type."

"So is Margaux," Ginny said.

"You don't have a problem doing this to your friend?"

"No," Ginny said, "as far as I'm concerned, this can only benefit her. I hate that Michael bloke. If this shows her how shitty he is, then it will help her. We can show her what a good relationship is and she'll see you're a part of it."

Dean nodded. "Alright, let's do this."

He held out his hand. She shook it with force.

"Ginny, will you pretend to be my girlfriend?"

"Dean," she said, pretending to cry and fan away her tears, "I would love to have you as my fake boyfriend."

"Perfect!" he said. "But we have to set some ground rules."

"Of course," Ginny said. "First of all, don't kiss me unless Harry or Margaux is around."

"Done," Dean said.

"Second, we can't go on dates with other people. You have to act like my boyfriend, you can't be playing Seven Minutes or any of those games on the weekend or people will know."

"Done."

"Third, this is a casual relationship. Neither us ever say 'I love you' in any circumstance, especially not near Margaux and Harry. They won't want to mess with a serious relationship. We're just having fun."

"Good thinking."

"And lastly," Ginny said, "Don't tell anyone this is fake. Anyone. Not even Neville or Seamus."

"But they know I fancy Margaux. And I'm sure your friends know you fancy Harry."

"Doesn't matter. Just tell them you hooked up with me at this party and decided to focus on me instead. I'll say the same thing."

"By 'hooked up' you mean…?"

Ginny smiled. "Just say 'hooked up'. It's intentionally vague to make people believe what they want to believe. But if people pressure you, just say we made out. Nothing serious. I don't need the Slytherins calling me a slut, either."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, no. Okay, we can do that. People will believe it. Look at us."

He squeezed Ginny's shoulder. "We'll look good together."

She laughed. "Well, that is all that matters in a teenage relationship."

"Exactly. Also, I just remembered that I told Neville I wanted to get over Mar. He'll just think you're my rebound."

"Gee, thanks," Ginny rolled her eyes. "My friends won't ask questions. I just dumped Michael Corner right before the end of last term. They'll expect me to move on about now. I'll keep you updated on how Margaux acts."

"And I'll tell you about Harry."

She smiled as the dryer dinged. Dean hopped off the counter and retrieved Ginny's shirt. He tossed it to her and she put it on over the Backstreet Boys shirt, maneuvering out of the child's shirt from underneath her own and folding it in the laundry basket.

"Come on," she said, "Wanna go make out a little on the couch, show everyone we hooked up for proof?"

Dean's hand froze on the doorknob. "I guess. It'll take some getting used to."

She nodded. "Alright, fake boyfriend, let's do this."

"Okay, fake girlfriend, I'm ready."

Except, he could never be ready for what would happen in the upcoming months.


	22. Chapter 22: I Can't Do This

**Hi guys! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy with work. However, I did have time to make this Tumblr for you, to give you some idea of what a few of the characters look like in my head: search for "** **theextras" dot "tumblr" dot "com."** **Feel free to imagine the people any way you like!**

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **LENORE'S POV**

Lenore and Margaux kissed their parents goodbye with promises to "stay safe," "write letters," and "learn a lot." Hugs were shared and kisses given, but Clair no longer shed a tear when she dropped her daughters off. It only took her six tries, but this was the year she did not cry in front of her family. Tim and Clair waved as their daughters broke through the brick wall of Platform 9 3/4 and on to the bustling squeals of the wizarding world station.

This year at Hogwarts would be different, Lenore could just feel it. She was excited to start a relationship with Neville, to spend one last year with her best friends before they graduated, and to learn new, more challenging material. However, this would also be a scary year. The magical world was not exactly a safe place. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge— the daft idiot, Lenore added in her head— had been practically burned at the stake. The press and the people turned against him after it was confirmed Voldemort had returned. The new Minister Rufus Scrimgeour seemed like a real hardass. Lenore and her father had engaged in many a heated political debate this summer regarding Scrimgeour's agenda. Lenore had argued that Scrimgeour was too brash and he needed his powers checked. The man often approved the arrest of clearly innocent people in order to convince the public that they were making progress in the war. Tim Henry, however, approved of the Minister's hawkish tendencies, so long as he got the job done.

Lenore opened her mouth to ask Margaux if she would mind holding her suitcase as she latched her trunk back up, but she noticed the girl was no longer on her right. She glanced around, but Margaux was gone.

Lenore huffed. Her sister was getting on her nerves lately. She still had not spoken to Margaux about her choices surrounding Dean and Michael. From what she knew, Michael and her had gotten into a row and Margaux decided to snog Dean. It was immature and selfish of Margaux, but Lenore was not ready to bring it up, now or ever. Lenore glanced down at the trunk and examined it more carefully. It was not her trunk, it was Margaux's that sat unhooked on the luggage trolley. Great, she thought, now I have to wait here for the little prat to come back and collect her stuff.

 **MARGAUX'S POV**

Lenore was being weird lately and Margaux could not explain why. Her sister had clearly watched her come out a bedroom with Dean and she had not said a word. It was so unlike her. Normally Lenore was brash. She liked to talk things out in the open. But for whatever reason, she stayed mum on the whole incident. Margaux knew she must have discussed it with Dean, who no doubt offered his biased opinion.

Margaux stomach twisted as she grew closer to the boy, her arms holding a large tray of chocolate chip cookies. It was awkward, she knew, but she had no idea how to apologize. Guilt ate her alive. She had not meant to kiss Dean. It was selfish and immature. She felt so sorry and by the look in his eye before she left, she knew she had hurt him. Her mind spun, thinking of how nice he always was to her. And there she was, toying with his mind. Her and Michael worked out their differences. She made him promise never to patronize her again, and he agreed. They would try this long distance relationship for a couple months and see how it went.

She had told Michael she loved him.

It was not exactly true. He said it first, what was she supposed to do? She returned the words before she knew what she was saying. She did not love him. But she knew not saying the words would hurt him and she had already hurt one boy that day. She could almost kick herself. Why did she care so much about what other people thought of her?

She grew closer to Dean and he glanced over to her, his eyes shifting away and then immediately back to her in shock.

"Dean, I'm so sorry," she blurted out. "I'm really so, so sorry. I've never been sorrier in my entire life."

She shoved the plate of cookies into his hand. He started to speak, but she interrupted him. "I swear to Merlin, I'm an awful person. I didn't mean to hurt you. I could never hurt you. But I did. I'll never stop apologizing for the rest of my life. You deserve better than this, and I'd understand if you never talked to me again. I treated you like shit and I used you and I'm so sorry."

She started to turn to leave, but Dean grabbed her arm. "Mar—"

He halted as her eyes met his. He quickly recovered and said slowly, "Thank you. Really… this… this means a lot to me. You… you did hurt me a bit, but… it's nothing I can't forgive."

She shook her head. "It shouldn't be that easy. I treated you so badly, you can't just forgive me that easily."

His dark brown eyes steadied on her face. "I… I've time to think about it. In my opinion, we're even."

"Even?"

"Yeah. I kissed you, you've kissed me. Even."

She hesitated. She had not thought about it that way. It still felt different though. Dean had not hurt her by kissing her. The kiss mean nothing. This time, however, it seemed to mean something to him. She shook her head, before realizing he was still watching her. No, it could not mean anything to him. It was not like he had feelings for her. She always got the impression he liked Katie Bell.

"Okay," she acknowledged. "I guess that's true."

Still, it did not feel true.

Dean smiled. "Alright, then that's settled. Friends?"

"Friends," she grinned as he transferred the cookie tray to a single arm and shook her hand with his newly freed limb.

"And hey, thanks for these," he lifted the cookies up. "You really didn't have to."

"I did," she cringed. "It's the only way I knew how to show you I was sorry."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her red-haired Weasley friend.

"Ginny!" she pulled her friend into a hug, despite seeing her only two days ago. "Hi!"

"Hi Mar!"

The girl gave her friend a warm hug and retreated back to Dean. Margaux watched as she kissed him on the cheek and intertwined their arms together. Her mouth dropped open as the pair smiled at her. Her mouth dried up as she said, as casually as her tone would allow her, "What's this?"

Ginny giggled. "We're dating!"

"DATING?" Margaux gasped. "Holy shit, since when?"

"Since his party," Ginny said, lifting his arm slightly.

Her head was spinning. For some inexplicably reason, her heart hurt. She stared into Dean's eyes. His smiled faded for the briefest second, but he immediately perked up and turned his gaze to Ginny.

"What… what caused this?" Margaux sputtered.

Ginny's smile never fell. "We just kind of snogged a bit and decided we liked it, so why not start dating!"

Margaux swallowed hard. She glanced between the pair. After a couple deep breaths, she decided to feign happiness. She let out a small screech of joy and Ginny did the same.

"HOW GREAT IS THIS?" she nearly yelled.

Not great, she thought, not great at all.

"I KNOW!" Ginny returned the shout. "Dean's going to sit with us in our compartment!"

"That's great!" Margaux said, in her fake peppy voice. "What about Seamus and Neville, though?"

Dean shrugged. "Seamus ran off with Terry and I figured Neville would find your sister or Luna."

Margaux nodded, her stomach still churning for reasons she could not explain. "Sounds good! Let me go get my luggage and I'll join you two!"

As she turned around, her smile fell and she felt tears sting her eyes. She pinched up her face to stop from crying, but it did not work. She had no idea why she was crying. She searched her brain and convinced herself it was from relief. Dean was no mad at her. These were happy tears… they had to be, or else…

She pushed that thought out of her brain and returned to her sister, keeping her head down and immediately reaching for her luggage from the trolley.

"Where have you been?" Lenore demanded. "I have places to go too, you know!"

Margaux stayed silent. Lenore must have noticed she was crying, despite her best attempts to hide her tear-stained face, because she gasped, "Mar! What's wrong?"

Margaux summoned all her courage to fake a smile. "Dean's not mad at me! I'm so happy! These are happy tears!"

Her tone sounded convincing enough. Lenore examined her and then pulled her into a hug. Margaux laughed and tried to lift her sister up, but the girl went limp to prevent this unwanted movement. They giggled in their shared embrace. Margaux gained some comfort and courage from her sister.

"I'm so glad, Mar! I'm glad everything is okay now!" She stepped away and allowed her to gather her luggage. "Wipe your tears though, or people will think you're sad."

The back of Margaux's hand cleared her cheeks and eyes of tear drops. "Are my eyes red?"

Lenore stared at her. "Actually, no. Your nose is a little red, but honestly I can't tell you were crying."

"Good! I'll see you around, Len!"

"See ya!"

With that, Margaux trekked back to meet her roommates and Dean, still fighting the urge to cry once more.

 **LENORE'S POV**

So, Margaux had worked it out with Dean. That was great. Lenore did not exactly buy her story of "happy tears," but she figured Margaux would tell her if something major had happened. She watched her go back to Dean and Ginny, so it must not have been bad.

Lenore plucked her trunk and suitcase off the trolley, abandoning it on the far edge of the platform. Katie, Alicia, and Leanne said to meet her in their usual compartment, the one they took together each year. It would be weird without Angelina, but they would make do without her funny quips. On her way to the back of the train, Lenore spotted Odette and Circe struggling over a cumbersome trunk.

"Hi!" she grinned to her roommates.

"Hi, Lenore!" Odette announced. She gave her roommate a hug and Circe joined in.

"How were your summers?" she smiled.

They exchanged warm pleasantries and Lenore asked if they needed help with their trunk. Odette said no, her younger brother Matt would help them once he got back. Mateo Trujillo was two years younger than Odette and a Hufflepuff.

"Have you seen Longbottom?" Circe whispered under her breath. She pointed behind them and the girls turned to see him heading down the platform in their direction, but clearly not noticing them. "Something's different about him."

As he came closer, Lenore called for him and waved. He gave her a nervous smile and seemed to be contemplating whether or not to walk over, which confused Lenore. He eventually stepped closer and she said warmly, "Hi, Neville!"

It was the first time she had spoken to him since they kissed two days ago.

He paused before answering, his body language pointed away from her. "H-hi."

This was not the warm greeting she had been expecting. In her mind, he would have given her a cheery hello and invited her to sit in his compartment, even though she would turn him down to sit by Katie and Alicia on their final ride to back to school for the autumn. Maybe even he would have tried to hug her. But he did none of those things. He merely shifted uncomfortably as his eyes glanced towards Odette and Circe organizing their suitcases behind her.

"How have you been?" she asked him.

"Good," he said shortly, still avoiding prolonged eye contact.

She furrowed her eyebrows. She had no idea what to say. She was not used to him acting so distant like this around her anymore.

"Did you get all the classes you wanted?"

"Yeah."

Lenore watched him carefully. He did not seem to want to talk to her. "Okay…" she said, "well, I've got to go. Talk to you later then."

He gulped and nodded silently as he walked away from her.

She clutched the handle of her bag tighter as she heard Circe's voice behind her. "What's his problem?"

"What?" Lenore turned to her.

"Longbottom. He acted like you were about to punch him."

"I… I don't know. You think he was acting weird, too?"

Circe nodded, along with Odette. "Super weird," Odette said. "I thought he was getting more comfortable around you? That was just awkward. Did something happen over the summer?"

"No!" Lenore said. She did not yet want to tell her roommates that they had kissed. "I have no idea."

"Weird," Circe shook her head. "Maybe it was the two of us being around."

"Maybe," Lenore sighed. "But he's always acted friendly towards me, even when he was nervous. That just felt cold."

Odette nodded. "You must have done something to throw him off?"

 _Like stick my tongue down his throat,_ Lenore was tempted to say, but she kept that thought to herself. "I have no idea."

"He'll perk up," Circe patted her shoulder. "He's probably just in a mood."

"…What did you mean by 'something's different about him?'"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I can just tell by the way a man walks if he's had a good snog lately."

"WHAT?" Lenore gasped. She covered this mistake with a laugh. "You're crazy."

"No," she grinned. "Longbottom has definitely snogged someone. Maybe that weird blonde girl he hangs around. Or the Weasley girl."

"Or Lenore," Odette grinned.

Lenore shook her head, quickly coming up with a lie. "You saw how he acted around me."

"Mmm," Odette gave her a knowing smile.

"Alright, I'm here to help!" Mateo announced from behind Lenore. "Hi, Lenore!"

"Hey, Matt! How are you?"

"Great! Excited to be back."

With that, the three girls boarded the train and went their separate directions, Odette towards her Ravenclaw friends, Circe towards some younger Slytherin girls, and Lenore towards Katie, Alicia, and Leanne.

On her way through the train corridor, she glanced passed a compartment with Dean Thomas. No sign of Seamus or Neville.

But Ginny sat next to him. A little too close. Their hands were intertwined. She laid a kiss on his cheek.

Lenore immediately gasped and looked away. She continued down the corridor, her brain spinning wildly. What the hell was Dean doing? Was he dating Ginny now? Something happened after she left the party and she was determined to find out what. At once, a thought hit her. Margaux's tears. Had she been crying because he found out about the Ginny/Dean relationship? Did Dean hurt her? If Dean was a dick to her sister, she would absolutely rip into him.

But Margaux had been in the compartment with them. She sat across from them, smiling as well. Lenore was so confused. Too much was happening today. She pried open the door to a compartment and was greeted by a warm hug from Katie.

"Hi!" she laughed.

"Hi, Len!" her best friend returned. "It's been forever!"

"Yeah, what? Two days?"

"Forever."

Lenore also greeted Alicia Spinett and Leanne Kuang with a giddy hug and she took her place next to Leanne. "It actually has been forever since I've seen you two! An entire month a half!"

"I know!" Alicia smiled. "Does anyone want to ask us how summer camp was?"

"How was summer camp?" Lenore grinned.

Both Alicia and Leanne had attended the same camp tucked along the rocky beaches of Norfolk. They spent two weeks in the outdoors, hiking, swimming, and enjoying the adventure of sleeping in cabins. It sounded like an amazing time and Lenore and Katie nodded along in awe. The girls traded stories for nearly an hour, but the image of Dean and Ginny remained burned in Lenore's brain.

"Hey," she interrupted after a while, "have any of you heard anything about Ginny and Dean dating?"

"I saw them holding hands on the platform!" Alicia offered. She ran a hand through her closely-cropped natural curls. "I almost asked that same question when Katie mentioned Dean a while back."

"I heard Ginny telling Verona about it," Leanne offered. "They hooked up after some party."

Lenore's heart sank. It must have been after Dean's party. But that couldn't be. Dean must still have feelings for Margaux. Unless his feelings weren't all that deep to begin with. But Lenore did not get that impression. Ginny must be Dean's rebound. Oh no. This would not be a pretty sight. Poor Ginny. She was better than being somebody's second choice. It reminded Lenore of her own Oliver Rivers debacle last April. Oliver had called her his "last resort" to her face. Hopefully, Dean would not do the same thing. If Dean hurt Ginny, she would send Neville after him. And if Dean hurt her sister… ooo boy, would there be hell to pay.

Unless, Ginny was using a vulnerable Dean. Lenore always got the impression that Ginny was a bit of a playboy herself. Definitely not a slag— Lenore hated that word and any word that degraded a woman's sexual decisions— but Ginny was a hopeless romantic. She idealized boys and relationships and always seemed to be jumping from boy to boy. Again, nothing wrong with that, but Ginny was the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, and if Dean did not know that, he would be in for trouble.

A knock came at their compartment door. A small girl who Lenore immediately recognized as a third-year Slytherin timidly opened their compartment door.

"H-hi," she said breathlessly, "I'm supposed to deliver this to Lenore Henry."

The girl must have known who Lenore was, because she handed the slip to Lenore immediately, rather than waiting for any of the other girls to volunteer the information. Lenore kindly thanked the girl, who she was fairly certain was named Salma. The girl did not falter when Lenore said her name, so it must have been correct. She closed the door behind her and left Katie begging Lenore to open the letter.

Lenore tore open the folded flap of parchment. "It says, 'Lenore, I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in Compartment C. Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn.'"

"Who is Professor Slughorn?" Leanne asked.

"No clue," Lenore said. "His name sounds familiar. I don't want to go."

"Go!" Katie nudged her. "This could be an opportunity!"

Lenore ponder the statement for a while. It very well could be a good opportunity to kiss some ass. And Merlin, did she need it from any teacher she could charm. "Alright, I'll go. I'll try to come back and spend as much time as possible with you lot!"

The girls waved the girl out the door as she attempted to freshen her lipstick. She slipped the tube into her pocket as the others had already shut the compartment door and made her way towards the front of the train. She paid special attention to sneak a peek in Margaux's compartment, but she noticed the girl was not there. Slughorn must have invited her as well. Lenore finally found compartment C, which was filled with seven other students, all facing a man at the head of the table.

Through the glass door, Lenore could see the compartment was decorated in fine tables cloths and plates, each adorned with a small cooked bird— probably pheasant— and finely-etched cutlery. Lenore entered the compartment with a warm smile and a hello to the short, round, balding bloke with a handlebar mustache who she presumed to be Slughorn.

"Ah, Miss Henry! Good to see you. I haven't seen you since you were up to my knee!"

She raised her brow. "Is that right, sir?"

"Oh yes! I know your father from way back in day. Please have a seat."

Lenore glanced around the compartment. Margaux sat next to Ginny, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned lazily back in her chair with a hint of mild apathy on her face. Lenore's eyes shifted to the only seat open, next to Neville. Hesitantly, she sat down next to the boy who had not an hour ago acted cold to her.

"Hi, Len," he whispered.

She turned to give him a confused look.

His face seemed to fall, but before she could react, Slughorn began speaking.

"I assume you all know each other?" he began, talking mainly to Harry and Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course."

Blaise gave no indication he had heard Slughorn, nor did Harry or Neville acknowledge him. Lenore rolled her eyes.

"And Lenore Henry—"

Slughorn paused as he caught her eyes pointed towards the ceiling. She quickly adjusted her face as he continued, "She's in your year, as well. Her sister, Margaux Henry is a year younger."

Margaux smiled, but only playboy Cormac McLaggen returned the gesture, which gave Lenore another strong urge to roll her eyes. Slughorn continued introducing Marcus Belby, Cormac, and Ginny, before inviting everyone to begin feasting.

"This is a lovely afternoon, wouldn't you say so?"

The students all nodded and looked around in confusion. Slughorn turned his attention to interrogating Belby on his uncle, the inventor of Wolfsbane Potion. Lenore stared down at her plate, ignoring eye contact with more than half the room. She was mad at nearly everyone in the compartment. Her sister, for treating Dean like shit. Ginny, for moving in on Dean so quickly. Belby, for chewing with his mouth open— god, Lenore was about to stand up and snatch his food away, as he was basically inhaling the bird whole. Blaise, for being an all-around wanker. Cormac, for just existing. And predominately Neville, for being so cold to her. The only person she was not angry at was Harry, so she kept her eyes on him and Slughorn, her ears drifting in and out of the conversation over Blaise's rich, widow-maker mother.

"Lenore and Margaux—" Slughorn said.

The girls straightened up at the sudden attention.

"—How is your father doing? Still teaching at that muggle university?"

"He's doing great," Lenore smiled. "He is still at the university and he was just recently promoted to Dean of the Liberal Arts college."

Slughorn clapped his hands together. "How fantastic! What is a 'liberal art'?"

"Liberal arts is like history, geography, literature— basically things that don't involve maths," Margaux offered.

"And he teaches as if he were a muggle himself?"

"Yes," Lenore said. "We live as if we're muggles, too, for the most part."

She felt Blaise's cool stare on her mouth. She knew he thought it was ridiculous, if not outrageous, for a pureblood man to pretend to be a muggle, but her dad simply enjoyed living that way.

"Fascinating," Slughorn said. "How is your mother? The last time I saw her was a few years ago at a function with your father. Tim and I used to run into each other at education seminars quite often. She is American, correct?"

"Yes, she is doing well. Still at her job with the U.S. government, working with the embassy to help muggles with passport problems."

"It's a very interesting family arrangement the Henrys have," Slughorn said to the table. "Their father is from a Pureblood family, all of them in Ravenclaw for centuries."

Lenore bit her lip.

"That is, until her and her sister. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Anyhow, Dr. Henry was a member of the Slug Club himself back in the day. And her mother is an American muggle. Incredibly friendly lady, if I recall correctly."

"For the most part," Margaux said, still holding a grudge at her mother for throwing her suitcase down the stairs in a fit of hurried exasperation.

"She can be quite animated," Lenore fixed Margaux's offhanded error.

"Ah, yes, I recall your father claiming she have you the extra pep to get into Gryffindor and Slytherin. Tell me, what is it like having a sister in a house traditionally your enemy?"

"I don't pay much mind to it, honestly," said Lenore. "Most of my friends are Gryffindors. I have friends from every house, which isn't all that odd. I know there's the whole rivalry and everyone thinks we hate each other, but when you get down to the individuals, I think a good majority of us don't get caught up in all the nonsense."

Slughorn seemed impressed with her answer. He turned to Margaux as she said, "I agree. Sometimes we don't all get along. I don't have many—or any— friends in Slytherin, besides my sister, but that doesn't mean I hate Slytherins. I think most of us Gryffindors are conditioned to hate the idea of Slytherins more than we hate the individual people. Some of them are wonderful, kind people, my sister included."

Lenore smiled to Margaux.

"Well, it sounds like you two have a great relationship," Slughorn said. "I remember the time you all visited Cardiff, I met your father in the pub for a drink. Your mother was there outside with you girls for just a few seconds. You two were just small, maybe three and four, but I knew then that you would grow up in a wonderful household."

"Thank you, sir," Lenore grinned.

Slughorn snapped his fingers and the main course disappeared, much to Belby's despair. He was not disappointed for long, as a large bowl of ice cream appeared in front of him. Slughorn shifted his eyes to the boy next to Lenore.

"Longbottom, how are you this evening?"

Neville was shocked at the sudden attention. "V-very well, sir. Thank you for inviting me."

"What is Augusta up to these days? How is she?"

"She's well. She, um, she likes to sit at home and read."

"I heard all about Gusta from your parents. She has a brilliant mind. I wouldn't be surprised if she studied ancient literature in her spare time. What does she read?"

"Um, romance novels, mostly."

Lenore stifled a laugh. She remember the bookcases in Augusta's room filled to the ceiling with dirty romance novels featuring men in white flowing shirts on their covers.

"Oh," Slughorn said. "Well… do you have any career plans yet? Your parents were some of the best aurors in the business. I'm sure you inherited some of their talent."

"I-I'm actually not sure what I want to do," he panicked. "I-I like herbology, so maybe something with that."

"Interesting," Slughorn nodded. "Maybe a scientist or professor?"

"Maybe," Neville said timidly.

Slughorn gave a weak, but kind, smile as he continued berating Neville with questions on his family life. Lenore almost felt bad for him. Almost. He was still acting funny around her. The entire time she had spoken, he did not look at her once.

"Do you get to visit your parents much?"

Neville froze. Lenore, Harry, and Ginny immediately shifted their eyes to Slughorn. Nobody else in the compartment knew his parents were alive. Hopefully, it would be okay. The way Slughorn phrased the question was vague. He would have been referring to visiting gravesites. Either way, nobody in the compartment paid that much attention to Neville before today, so maybe they simply would not care.

"A-a few times during holidays."

Slughorn seemed satisfied with that answer, as he moved on to his crown jewel, Harry Potter. Lenore was right, nobody at the table gave Neville a second glance. She sucked up all her pride and grabbed for Neville's hand under the table. He turned to look at her as she reached across his lap and gave his left hand a short squeeze. She gave him a reassuring smile, which he returned, and then she let go and relapsed to her relented state of annoyance.

As Slughorn made a comment about Harry's supposed powerful talents, Blaise coughed with skepticism. Before Lenore could shoot him an evil look, Ginny made a snide comment about his lack of gifts, besides his looks. Lenore watched his lips twist into an angry pout. Sometimes she could not believe she had made out with Blaise. They meant nothing to each other, not now or at any time. They both just wanted a snog. But he was so haughty and so… the opposite of Neville. Polar opposites, practically.

Blaise and Neville both rarely spoke in public, at this meeting or ever. They were both the shy types, but for different reasons. Lenore did not hate Blaise. He was difficult, yes. Snobbish, yes. Narcissistic, yes. But truth be told, none of those things bothered her that much. The only thing that bothered her was his insistence on blood purity, which she pretended not to hear him discuss, but never went out of her way to attack him for. She should feel guilty about that— especially after hanging around Gryffindors who had no trouble calling out Slytherins for purist comments— but truth be told, it was just easier for her to ignore him and many other Slytherins completely.

She turned her attention to Neville, who continued to avoid her gaze. Her jaw clenched in frustration as he blatantly ignored her next to him. She was being petty, she knew, but it was not her fault. He could at least acknowledge her anytime during this day without her forcing him. Even when Slughorn gave them the opportunity to talk amongst themselves, he did not speak with her.

As the evening descended upon nightfall, Slughorn dismissed the luncheon so the students could change into their robes. The day had not been all that bad, despite Lenore's initial determination to spend it with Katie, Alicia, and Leanne. It might be beneficial to get on Slughorn's good side. He seemed like a nice guy, a bit of a bloody kiss-ass, like many Slytherins, but he put on no airs.

She noticed at once that she was tailing Neville, Harry, and Ginny. When Neville turned around to look at her, she slipped into Cho Chang's compartment. She had not particularly wanted to visit with Cho, but she figured saying hello would be easier than dealing with Neville at the moment. After a brief, but friendly chat regarding shared classes, Lenore exited the compartment, pulling the blinds down over the compartment door window as Cho's friend had requested. Lenore turned to her right and ran smack into Neville's tall body.

"Oh fuck!" she exclaimed.

He was clearly startled. "L-len, can I talk to you?"

She nodded. He bit his lip and took great caution to select his words.

"Is… is something wrong?"

"Not with me," she said carefully.

He scanned her face, his eyes shifting in a frenzy. "Is there something wrong… with me?"

"Kind of," she shrugged. "Why are you being so weird around me?"

His voice grew quiet. "W-what?"

"At the meeting. You wouldn't look at me or talk to me. And earlier today. Before we boarded the train, you acted like you were mad at me."

"No!" he said quickly. "I'm not mad! I'm sorry. I… I was just nervous. With your roommates around and all. And… the meeting… I wasn't sure if you wanted anyone to know we were friends. Or… more than friends."

He stared down at his hands and Lenore instantly felt a twinge of guilt.

"Neville," she said, "obviously I want people to know we're more than friends. I wouldn't have kissed you if I hadn't. I really do fancy you, you know. You don't have to be nervous around my roommates. They thought it was weirder how you acted today than when you are friendly to me. Circe asked me why you were being so cold."

"I-I'm sorry," he said, still looking down. "I didn't mean to be standoffish."

"It's okay," she assured him. "But Neville… If we're going to do this, you can't treat me that way."

His head shot up and his eyes met hers. "Lenore, I-I really don't know what came over me. I promise you, I'll never treat you badly. You deserve to be treated better than that."

She smiled. "Thank you. I know you would never hurt me."

"I won't," he said. "Merlin, I won't."

She stepped closed to him and wrapped her hands around his neck. He gulped as she pulled his head down towards hers. At the last possible second, he assumed she meant to kiss his cheek, so he shifted slightly under her touch. Her lips crashed against the side of his face and then she smiled against his skin. "I was aiming for your lips," she laughed.

"Y-you were?"

Her forehead touched his cheek and he could hear her giggle near his ear, causing a shiver to run down his stomach. "I was, until you turned away."

"S-sorry. I-I'm really not great this, am I?"

Her lips touched his skin once more. "You're brilliant."

She leaned away. still holding on to his neck as he placed a single hand on the small of her back. "I've got to get back to my compartment."

He nodded. "M-maybe we can meet tonight?"

"Tonight doesn't work," she frowned. "I've got plans with my friends."

"Oh, yeah, that's fine. Later this week."

She smiled, "Okay. Just let me know."

"I-I will."

Her hands slipped from his neck and she stepped back. "You need to ask me out, for real, on an actual date. I can't take charge on this, too."

Neville took a deep breath and smiled slightly. "Lenore, would you—"

"Not now!" she laughed. "Because I just took charge by telling you I'm not taking charge. That's not fair to me."

He shook his head and laughed with her. "You have issues."

"You," she placed an accusatory finger on his chest, "have issues too, the main one being nerves. I promise you, you don't have to be nervous around me."

He kissed her forehead. "I'll try."

"You'll do better than try," she said into his neck.

He leaned away and grinned. "You are sassy today."

Lenore tried to read his face. "Is that good or bad?"

"Good," he said. "I like it."

"Mmm," she smirked. "Well, there's plenty more where that came from. I'm going to go back to my compartment. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Bye."

"Bye."

"Oh! Wait!" he grabbed her hand gently. "I just wanted to say… thank you."

She watched his eyes on her face. "For what?"

"For… taking my hand under the table. I know you were mad at me and you didn't have to do it, but… thank you."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. A young group of Hufflepuffs passed them in the corridor, paying no mind to the couple. "No problem."

 **DEAN'S POV**

Dean sat across the table from Margaux. Ginny chattered on about her owl's broken wing, but Dean paid no attention to her dull tale. He focused on Margaux, who stared down at her plate and prodded her mashed potatoes with an ornately etched fork. She nodded every so often, or gave an, "Oh really?" towards Ginny, but she did not move her eyes. Dean desperately wanted her to look at him. For her sea green eyes to peer up at him through her long dirty blonde eyelashes. She continued mixing peas with potatoes, taking a half-hearted bite every so often.

Dinner went by without much excitement. Dumbledore gave his usual ominous speech, this time with even more forbidding warnings, given last June's events. He looked towards Seamus and Neville, hopefully to figure a way out of this one-sided conversation with Ginny. He still had not told his mates that he and Ginny were "dating."

Seamus was not much for conversation today. He preoccupied his mind with his new good mate, Terry Boot. Dean mentally rolled his eyes. Terry was a nice guy, but there was no way he was joining their trio. Neville stared down at his food, much like Margaux, and seemed to be brooding. He wondered what happened between him and Lenore after the party. Dean had not seen them together this entire day. He hadn't much spoken to anyone except Ginny today, and the occasional remark towards her roommates. He needed to get away from her for a moment, but after dinner, she followed him out of the Great Hall. Instead of going down the corridor towards their room, Dean led her down another empty hallway. Finally, he exploded with words:

"Ginny," he grabbed her shoulders to make her stop talking, "I don't know if I can do this. Merlin, I can't do this. Did you see Margaux's face when we first told her? She looked so sad. She looked like I hurt her. I can't… I can't hurt her. Oh god, this was a bad idea. She's going to find out and she's going to hate me. What if she hates you? You are one of her best friends, how can you see her face and not feel guilty? She trusts you. She trusts us both and we're lying to her. I really can't do this."

"Dean," she stopped him, "relax. It's going to be alright. Margaux needs to see this. She won't realize how great of a guy you are unless she can't have you. It's called playing hard to get. Right now, you are easy to get. Girls don't like that. It has to be a struggle. You aren't hurting her feelings, I promise. I think you're seeing connections where there aren't any. She didn't look upset to me."

Dean groaned. "I still feel so guilty."

Ginny rolled her eyes, took his hand, and led them back to Gryffindor Tower. "It'll be okay, I promise."

Dean went up to his room and had a jolly chat with his roommates. After an hour or so of unpacking, Harry and Ron went down to the common room to find Hermione. Dean seized the opportunity to tell his friends without Ginny's brother and close friend causing too much drama for the night.

"Alright, mates, gather round. Come, come."

Neville and Seamus glanced hesitantly at each other, then headed towards Dean. When he was sure Ron and Harry were out of the room, Dean said, "I've been trying to tell you this all day. Ginny and I are dating."

"DATING?" Seamus screamed.

Neville's gasped. "Holy shit. What?"

"We are a couple," Dean said, his voice faltering just slightly. "She asked me out after my party and I said yes."

"No," Neville said. "Why did you say yes?"

"Because…" he hesitated. "Because I'm over Margaux. I don't like the way she treated me. I've moved on to Ginny."

"Bloody hell," Seamus shook his head. "Mate, there's no way you just moved on. You've liked Margaux for a year."

Dean shook his head as the lies escaped his lips. "Nope. I'm over her. I like Ginny now. She treats me better."

Neville stared at him with knowing eyes, which made Dean uncomfortable. He hoped the boy could not see through his charade. He had to convince himself that he liked Ginny. _I fancy Ginny._ He repeated the words over and over, pounding the mantra into his brain.

"I'm going to go for a walk," Neville said abruptly.

Dean glanced at his watch. "Curfew is in less than an hour, mate."

Neville just shook his head and trudged out, leaving him and Seamus, who obviously did not grasp the situation with as much mental power as Neville did.

"Alright mate! You got yourself a bird! Tell me, have you snogged her yet?"

He felt Seamus's hand pat his shoulder roughly, but his surroundings were hazy. Not only was he lying to someone he loved, but he was lying to his best mates. There was no way he could keep this up for much longer.

"Yeah," Dean exhaled. "Yeah, we snogged. Sit down and I'll tell you all about it."

 **LENORE'S POV**

Directly after dinner, Lenore, Katie, and Alicia snuck down grassy hills to the Black Lake. Leanne was unable to attend, as her own roommates were going through a decorating crisis and decided to tear the entire room apart. Today, it would just be the two Gryffindors and one Slytherin, no Hufflepuff.

As they hopped over mossy rocks, Lenore said, "Remind me, I have big news to share later."

"Big news?" Katie gasped. "This will be good."

"It better be," Alicia grinned, "with a lead-up like that."

The girls placed a blanket near the water, poured themselves each a cup of pink wine that Katie snuck into her dorm, and rested so that they all faced each other. Alicia told stories from her muggle camp, from rope-swinging into a lake to a prank involving whipped cream and their counselor's knickers. Katie shared information about her older brothers and their road trip across England, of which she was the navigator. Her oldest brother had learned how to drive a muggle automobile and what fairly decent as replicating petrol with magic, so he rarely had to purchase the substance. Lenore discussed her family vacation to the beach in the south of France. A week of cold water, complaining about how disgusting French food tasted, and bickering over where to shop all added up to a pretty great Henry family vacation week. It was the same good-natured squabbling as home, but this trip allowed them to view the ocean.

"I missed you lot," Lenore schmoozed after finishing her cup of wine.

After a round of joyful, "I missed you, too," Katie grinned. "Do you remember what I said to you the first day we met?"

"When?" Lenore asked. "During that weird Dueling Club meeting when I was a second year?"

"That exact day. You made some snarky comment about Lockhart and Snape's hair dueling for dominance and I turned around and laughed."

"And then you said, 'I guess you aren't all humorless pricks,' and pointed to my robes?"

"And we've all been friends ever since."

Alicia wrapped an arm around her mates as they giggled. "I'm so glad I met you two."

"With the twins and Angelina graduated, you'll have to hang around us even more."

"Sorry," Katie grinned.

"Nahhhh," Alicia said. "You two are great. Better than my other friend group. Anthony has been acting weird lately."

"Because he likes you," Katie grinned.

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm not his usual type."

"His usual type is, 'any girl who will let him,'" Lenore said.

Alicia sighed, but she grew quiet.

"What's wrong?" Katie asked after a while.

She opened her mouth and closed it a few times, before selecting her words. "Can I tell you two something I've never told anyone?"

"Absolutely," Lenore nodded.

Alicia moved her gaze from her hands to shifting between Lenore and Katie's eyes. "I think… Oh Merlin, this is going to sound so random, but it's connected to this, I promise. I… I think I might be bi."

Lenore's mind worked in overdrive. Alicia just came out to them. She had seen stories like this in magazines and attempted to recall what to say in this situation, but he mind came up blank. She wanted to let Alicia know that they did not care and would support her no matter what, but the shock washed over Lenore like cold water. She simply did not expect this news tonight. And from Alicia, of all people. She had never given any inclination that Lenore noticed that she fancied anyone other than boys.

"Bi?" Katie could not hide her surprise. "As in… bisexual?"

"As in, you fancy girls, as well?" Lenore gasped.

She nodded and buried her face in her hands. "God, it sounds so weird coming out of my mouth. All my life, I thought I could only fancy boys. But… sometimes I find myself fancying girls. I kissed a girl at summer camp."

"No way!" Katie said. "Tell us about it!"

"Yeah! Do you still talk to her?" Lenore asked.

Alicia shook her head. "No, it wasn't like that. We just wanted to kiss. She was in the next cabin over. It only confused me more, though."

Katie and Lenore looked at each other. Lenore placed a hand on Alicia's shoulder. "That's okay, hun. We'll support you, no matter who you want to love."

Katie nodded in agreement, "Definitely. You do you."

Alicia looked up from her hands and said, "I fancy girls. But I also kind of… fancy Anthony. And this comes at the worst possible time, because how am I supposed to find out if I actually could date girls when there's a boy on my mind?"

Katie gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "If I were you, I'd snog another girl, then I'd snog Anthony and see which one you like better."

"But that might not work," Lenore pointed out. "She could feel attraction to the girl, but if she already fancies Anthony, as more than just a snog, she'll obviously pick him. You don't have to choose one gender. If you want to date Anthony, you're still bi. It doesn't shut off just because you are dating a specific gender at the moment."

Alicia nodded. "You're right. Thank you both for being so supportive."

"No problem," the girls said at the same time.

"If you ever need advice or reassurance, you can come to us," Lenore offered.

"Also," Katie said, "I'm pretty friendly with Susan Bones. She is bi. If you wanted to ask her for advice, I could relay the message. Secretly, of course."

"We won't tell anyone, we can promise you that."

Alicia smiled in appreciation. "I… I'm not sure if I mind people knowing or not. Maybe keep it quiet until I officially know. I've been thinking about it a lot, but I'm still a little confused."

"You have our word," Katie held up both her pinkies.

Lenore and Alicia each intertwined their pinkies to form a triangle of the three girls all shaking fingers. They giggled.

"So, Lenore," Katie turned to her other friend, "what was the news you wanted to share with us?"

Lenore cringed. The timing did not feel right anymore. With Alicia's big news, she felt like she would be taking the spotlight away from her friend. "I… I'm not sure I should say. I don't want to distract from Alicia's heartfelt confession."

"Come on," Alicia nudged her, "I don't give a rats ass about attention. I only wanted to get that off my chest. Now you give me your juicy confession."

Her eyes flickered between Katie and Alicia, both ready to pounce on any new information. She smiled, but it fell when she realized she had no idea how to phrase her statement. She decided on being at blunt as possible. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she said:

"I… I snogged Neville."

"NO!"

"YOU DIDN'T!"

Their shouts morphed into excited screaming and Lenore found herself screaming along with them, a huge smile spread across her face. When their high-pitched giddiness died down, Katie demanded, "WHEN?"

"At Dean's party."

"YOU SNOGGED HIM AT DEAN'S PARTY AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS?"

"I'm sorry!" Lenore begged. "I really am. I meant to! But, some stuff happened between Margaux and Dean and I had to deal with that. I still haven't told Mar that I've kissed him, either."

"Wait," Alicia interrupted, "did you kiss him or did you snog him?"

Lenore explained their night in detail, from his hands in her hair, to her on the counter pressed against him, to him sucking on her neck. She blushed nearly the entire time she described his kissing.

"Holy shit!" Katie screamed again. "So, he's a good kisser?"

"Better than Blaise!" Lenore's eyes grew wide. "Much better. And way better than Oliver."

Katie nodded along. Lenore had informed her of the kiss she and Oliver shared at the wedding. She would tell Katie about Oliver's kiss at Dean's party later. Alicia would most likely not want to hear Lenore story of nearly being assaulted. It would damper the mood.

"WAIT?" Alicia gasped. "You've kissed Oliver? Oliver Rivers?"

Lenore nodded, a little ashamed.

"Bloody hell, he's gorgeous."

"He's a fucking arsehole, and please never mention him around me again."

Alicia grinned. "That bad, huh?"

"Words cannot describe his level of shitiness. Stay away. Keep other girls away."

"I'll remember that. But back to Longbottom—"

Katie screamed again, which made them all laugh.

"—are you two going out, officially?"

Lenore sighed, her mood obviously changing. "No. He hasn't asked me out yet."

"You want to date him, right?" Alicia asked. "You don't just want a snog? Or, you know, a few steps more than a snog?"

Lenore shook her head. "I want to date him. I mean, right now, at this very moment, I want to snog him. God, I can't explain to you two how good he is. The other boys I've kissed don't care what I have to say. They kissed me however made them feel the best. Neville… he listened to me. He let me be in control. This is so embarrassing and I shouldn't be saying this, but I don't give a fuck right now, I want to scream it. He was kissing my neck and he hit this certain spot. I—oh god, embarrassing— I moaned a little bit and he stayed there, making sure I enjoyed it. I did something like that when I snogged Blaise and he didn't give one fuck, he kissed to make himself feel good. And Oliver—the fucking prick— would have done exactly what Blaise did—"

"I've had blokes do that to me," Katie chimed in. Alicia nodded along.

"Yes! Thank you! Neville wanted to make sure I enjoyed it. He— please forget about this as soon as you hear it, it's so embarrassing— he bit my neck and—"

Both girls gasped, so Lenore stopped. "What?"

"He bit you?" Katie exclaimed. "Holy shit, that's hot."

"I would never have guessed Longbottom would do that. From what I've heard, he's either kissed no girls or just one."

"I was surprised, too!" Lenore awed. "That's where it gets awkward. He bit me and I… kind of yelled his name. Not in a sexy way! Out of shock. Complete shock. I didn't expect it. But he pulled away. He pulled away. Isn't that the nicest thing you've ever heard? He thought I wasn't enjoying it, so he stopped and apologized."

"I don't know if apologies are exactly sexy," Alicia said, "but his concern for you is sweet."

"It was so sweet! God, I wish I could find him right now and snog him." Lenore gasped and covered her cheeks with her palms. "Forget I said that! Forget everything I've said tonight!"

Her two friends grinned. "Do you think he's going to ask you out?"

Lenore bit her lip. "I… I kind of stopped him from asking me out today. Okay, only because I'm the one who had to make the first move. I kissed him first, not the other way around. I told him this time that I wouldn't be making the first move and he tried to ask me out right there! That meant I was still making the first move, by telling him I wouldn't be asking him out."

She cringed and continued, "I see the look on both your faces, and I probably shouldn't have done that, but Merlin alive, I gave him months to make a move and he couldn't do it. He's terrified of me at the moment. Well, not of me, but he's scared he'll mess this up. I can see it in his eyes. I think his greatest fear is failure. Like… okay, you two weren't there. In my third year, Professor Lupin made everybody line up and face a boggart. Neville's boggart took the shape of Snape. And everyone took that to mean he was literally scared of Professor Snape. But I've been thinking about it lately, because I overthink things, and I think Snape is his embodiment of failure. I think he's scared to disappoint people. And if he fails with me, he'll disappoint himself. Am I overthinking this?"

"No!" Katie said at once. "That makes perfect sense!"

"Yes, definitely," Alicia said. "Your theory about Snape and fear is perfect, because I really do think Longbottom is scared of feeling inferior. I don't know much about the kid, but I know everyone compares him to his parents or to Harry or to other people his age. That has to take a toll on him. He's scared of being inferior compared to you. Or of you seeing him as inferior."

Lenore's lips parted. She sat in silence, staring intently at the waves crashing against the shore with the lake breeze. "Holy shit. You're right."

Everything Alicia said was true. It was the reason he was so nervous around her. It was why he selected his words so carefully and kept his feelings to himself and repressed any sign that he liked her. Failure was just one component to his larger phobia of feeling inferior. His grandmother certainly did not help with this fear, in fact, she was probably the cause of it. Neville was constantly compared to someone else for so long that now he spent his own mind contrasting himself with others. Everything he said on the train made sense. He talked about how he was not sure if Lenore wanted to be seen with him. Suddenly, the realization hit Lenore.

Neville thought she was out of his league. He believed her to be of more value than himself, when the opposite was clearly true. He was always so nice to her and to everybody and he was smart and funny, but he still believed himself unworthy of her. Unworthy of her bossy, sarcastic, complacent self.

And it wasn't just their personalities that he considered of different statues, but their physical appearance. Her mind thought back to early March, after the Seven Minutes in Heaven game. He had called her 'gorgeous,' which at the time meant little to her except for kind words from an acquaintance. Now, however, the words meant so much more. He had said she was gorgeous— she remembered he also called her beautiful when he was on the phone with her for the second time— and in the next full sentence, he had admitted that he did not think he was good-looking.

The thoughts punched her in the gut like the force of a sledgehammer. He was attractive to her. She wanted to get up right now, find him, and snog him until he was convinced he was her equal, because he was. Except, that would not solve the issues. It would take time and subtle persuasion to undo years of that mentality.

Not only was failure a component to this larger idea of inferiority, but disappointing people played into account. He was scared of disappointing Lenore and disappointing people around them. He was not standoffish to her when she was with her roommates simply because he was nervous, but because of the larger scheme of fear that Lenore's roommates would think him inferior to her or to themselves.

Lenore shook her head. Odette would never think anyone inferior. Circe definitely would, but she would not treat a person differently because of it. True, Neville did not know this, but just the fact that he assumed the worst caused her heart to crumble. She made a mental note to constantly assure him of his worth to her and to others.

"Are you okay?" Katie moved a hand in front of Lenore's face.

She snapped out of her trance. "Yeah! Sorry! I'm just… psychoanalyzing Neville. Oh god, that sounds awful."

Katie smiled. "He's a great guy. You've just got to be patient with him, like I'm sure he is with you."

Lenore feigned offense. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You aren't exactly easy to deal with," Katie laughed. "You're confident, you know what you want, you're assertive— that tends to scare blokes off. Not Neville, though. He's fancied you for longer than I think any of us know."

"Angelina told me he fancied you way back during last Christmas," Alicia chimed in.

Lenore groaned. "Her and her gossip. I have no idea. Maybe I don't want to know. I don't want all that pressure."

"What pressure?"

"I don't know…" she thought a moment. "Sometimes… I just feel like he's fancied me for so long that once we get together, it won't be what he expected."

"That's all relationships," Alicia scoffed. "Don't worry about it. He fancies you. You fancy him. That's all that matters. Don't put expectations on yourself, just have fun."

"And don't fall for him too quickly if you're concerned about that. But that shouldn't be a problem for you."

"No," Lenore's frown shifted into a grin. "Not with emotions as repressed as mine."

The girls laughed. "That's the spirt," Katie clapped.

The girls finished their wine picnic and decided to head back to the castle with plenty of time before curfew. They had to be up early tomorrow for classes. Alicia and Katie split off in one direction as Lenore went another. She sauntered through the corridors, not really excited to get back to her dorm and unpack. She had somehow manage to avoid Pansy so far this semester, and she liked to keep it that way.

As she walked, she heard a slight cough down an adjacent hallway. She peered down the corridor and witnessed the back of Neville's body. She watched him for a few moments, his body slowly getting smaller as he furthered his distance from her hall.

The urge to snog him was almost unbearable. Lenore wanted him with every pore in her body. She could not take it anymore. She needed him. She needed to show him how much she cared.

"Neville!"

 **NEVILLE'S POV**

Neville trudged down the corridor with a vague feeling of loneliness pounding at his chest. Dean was dating Ginny. There was no way Dean actually wanted to be with Ginny. Just two days ago, he had said he was in love with Margaux. His heart could not mend that rapidly. Ginny must be his rebound.

That idea made Neville a little angry. Ginny was better than somebody's rebound. They had fought together at the Department of Mysteries. They attended the Yule Ball together. He knew she was a great girl and he hoped Dean was not using her. He made a mental note to confront Dean about it tomorrow when he was less angry. Not in front of Ron, though. Merlin, this would all be so awkward. Ron was going to act strange around Dean now, much like how he acted towards Michael Corner. And how would Harry act? He was practically a brother to her as well. Dean was getting involved in something he could not handle.

Other than Dean being busy with Ginny, Seamus taken to abandoning him for Terry Boot. Terry was a nice guy, but Neville always got the feeling Terry walked on eggshells around him. He assumed his own quietness gave Terry discomfort. However, he tried not to let that thought dog his mind.

Speaking of worrying thoughts, Lenore. Neville knew he messed up today on the train. He thought she would want to keep their relationship quiet for a little while. It was going to be harder for her than him. The Slytherins were territorial with each other, not to mention the fact that it was a Gryffindor, of all people, dating one of their own. Neville could not name a single Gryffindor dating a Slytherin. Some of the other Slytherins dated Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, which was okay, but to date a Gryffindor? That was almost unheard of. He hoped some couple, somewhere was a Slytherin and Gryffindor. They could not be the only one.

Sometimes Neville wished he was not a Gryffindor. Life would be so much easier if he were a Hufflepuff, where he belonged. If he was a Hufflepuff and Lenore were a Ravenclaw— or even if she remained a Slytherin— nobody would bat an eyelash. Neville never really felt a connection to Gryffindor, other than his friends were in that house. He did not feel brave, despite fighting Death Eaters just a few months ago. He did not view himself as daring or chivalrous or courageous. Just today, he was scared to talk to Lenore. To Lenore. The person he was probably most comfortable around, besides Dean and Seamus. He could about kick himself for treating her so badly. She was right, she did not deserve to be treated that way. She deserved so much kindness and admiration and care, but he was just so nervous to give it to her. He still was not sure how much she fancied him. He knew she said she fancied him, twice, so she must hold him in high regard, but not nearly as much as he did. She must be in the early stages of fancying him. Nothing else would make sense.

He tried to think back to what it was like when he first started admiring her. How would he have wanted her to act around him back then? Taking things slow seemed like something she would want. It was also what he wanted. The problem was, their definition of slow was different. His slow was a year-and-a-half of pining, followed by blatantly ignoring her on the train. To her, "slow" involved kissing him before admitting to fancying him and then confronting him on the train. Neville liked the way she handled things, but sometimes her definition of "slow" terrified him.

He could not shake the feeling that he would disappoint her. He had already frustrated her and they were not even dating yet. He knew he should not worry about these things, but—

"Neville!"

A voice called for him from down an adjacent hallway. He turned around to see Lenore hurrying towards him. She looked worried. There was not a smile on her face like there usually was when she called for him.

Without a word, she grabbed his face, pulled him down to her, and attacked his lips. His stomach lurched violently as she gave him one long, passionate kiss. He was able to place a hand on her lower back after a moment, clutching her flowy black blouse, but he had no idea what to do next besides stand completely still and anxiously return her kiss.

"Sorry," she let go of him and shook her head a little. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me."

His hand slipped away from her body. He opened his mouth several times, but could only make noises of confusion. She was so beautiful, staring at him with sparkling jade eyes. He desperately wanted to kiss her again, but he refrained.

"W-w-what was that for?"

"I was just thinking about some stuff," she said anxiously. "Sorry. I'll tell you later."

Neville watched her fiddling with her hands. He could not get over the fact that she just kissed him. They stood in this same corridor last year, when Randall punched Margaux. At that time, Neville accidentally grabbed her arm when she backed into him. That was one of the more embarrassing things he had done in front of her. He chuckled in his mind— "one of the more embarrassing things." If he was starting a list of humiliating events that occurred in front of her, he would need to set aside multiple rolls of parchment and an entire evening to jot each encounter down. However, a mere five months later, there she was, kissing him in the same corridor.

Her idea of "slow" definitely was not the same as his.

"O-o-okay," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she waved him off. "Perfectly fine. How are you?"

He searched her face. She really did appear to be fine, other than clear embarrassment after practically attacking him. "A… a bit disoriented, to be completely honest."

She giggled and bit her tongue. Her dark green eyes stared into his for a few extra seconds. He could feel his heart pounding across his entire body, every limb thumping along with his wild heart.

"I really do like you," she smiled. "You're such a great guy."

He had no idea what she was talking about. She did not seem to know what she was saying either, but her words comforted any doubts lurking in his mind at that moment.

"T-thank you. You're great, too."

She grinned so beautifully. Her lips really were perfect. "Okay, I was hurrying back to my dorm. I just… I wanted to kiss you. Sorry."

"Definitely don't apologize," he said quickly. "I… I didn't mind."

Her laugh rang out, cradling his eardrums and filling him with joy. "From the look on your face, I would agree with that."

He cringed and blushed. "Y-yeah."

She continued to stare at him, not moving a muscle. She did not turn to walk away, back towards her dorm as she had stated earlier. Her smile gradually fell and her lips parted.

"Neville," she formed her words slowly, "can I… can we…"

She took a breath and sighed desperately. "I just really want to snog you."

His mouth dropped open. "You— what?"

Without a second of hesitation, her warm hand took his and she dragged him into an empty classroom that she managed to unlock. She shoved him inside towards the front row of desks. As she relocked the door, his mind spun with a thousand questions and worries. His heart beat faster than it ever had in his life. They were about to kiss some more. A lot more. She stepped closer to him, her eyes wide and her face showing nervousness. Her long eyelashes blinked with each quick flicker of her eyes as she scanned his face.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked.

He nodded and at once, her lips met his. After a moment of shock, he wrapped his arms around her back and deepened the kiss even more. The cold room was silent, except for the sound of their lips on each other, but Neville did not even notice. He was too preoccupied with stopping his mind from running rampant.

He could not believe she had already kissed him this much after a mere two days of admitting they fancied each other. Lenore obviously liked to kiss him. Quite a bit. He could not figure out why. He knew why he liked kissing her. She was fun and light-hearted about the whole event. And she was so good at it. The way her mouth lightly sucked on his bottom lip made him tremble just thinking about it.

Lenore broke Neville's train of thought when she moved her hands from his back to his hair. Her fingers massaged his scalp in a soothing motion. Neville could actually feel himself shake a little. She stepped even closer and closed the distance between their bodies, so that his pelvis pressed roughly into her stomach. A small gasp escaped his lips, which seemed to excite her. Her tongue traced his bottom lip and her hands halted their motion, becoming still has she clutched his hair between her fingers.

Her hands left his head and gripped the front of his shoulders. She pushed him backwards slightly, towards the desk, and pulled him down. He sat on the desktop and she placed herself between his legs. His nervous breath dogged her mouth and he tried to stop, but for whatever reason, she did not care. She kissed him with vigor, running her hands up his neck and returning to his hair. Neville's mind focused on two things: the sensation of her body against his and repressing the moan at the edge of his throat. His fingers gripped her waist as he tugged her closer to him. When she smiled against his mouth, he broke his lips away from hers and he kissed her on the neck, the same way as their night at Dean's party. This time, she did not recoil, but rather she tilted her head back and leaned in. She caressed his scalp as he grazed his lips across her throat, paying special attention to fill each kiss with care.

"Nev," she breathed, "that feels so good."

The pit of his stomach tensed up. _Lenore liked what he was doing._ He could not accept that he was making her feel this way. He sucked on the spot he remembered she enjoyed and after a moment, she let out a quiet, "Mmm."

His entire body throbbed. _Lenore is moaning… because of me,_ his mind shouted. It was almost too much for him. He wanted to throw up. Or cry. Or none of those. He was just so elated. He could feel Lenore holding sections of his hair in her fists. Her heart beat rapidly and Neville could feel it pulsating under his lips.

"Neville," she repeated his name.

Merlin, she would not stop making noises. He wanted her closer to him. He did not care how nervous he was, he needed her against his body. His finger sunk into her back and he pulled himself closer to her, so that just the edge of his butt sat on the desk. She pressed her body entirely against his and moved her hand to his jaw, where she tilted his head back to her lips. Her kisses were more vigorous this time, even more complete than before. Her tongue touched his lip, which surprised him. Another normal kiss, then she touched her tongue just inside his bottom lip.

She was french-kissing him. Holy shit, he had never used tongue while kissing. He grew braver with his movements and his tongue traced her bottom lip, like she had done to him just a moment ago. She shivered under his touch. Her tongue found its way into his mouth and he refrained from whimpering. Neville had never french-kissed anyone before, but his instincts seemed to kick in as he reciprocated the motion. He always imagined kissing like this would be vaguely gross. It seemed quite unhygienic and even awkward, but with Lenore at the helm, he realized just how wonderful it was. The kisses felt deeper, more complete, with tongue. It was not gross at all, in fact, her mouth tasted slightly fruity. Had she been drinking? Wait.

His mouth. Oh god, he did not even think about his own breath. He had brushed his teeth after dinner, but he worried that was not enough. She did not seem to notice anything amiss, so he came to the conclusion that his breath must be adequate.

Their tongues touched each other and he stopped himself from groaning. Neville could not believe this was happening. At once, it hit him again: this was Lenore. His tongue was in _Lenore's_ mouth. A powerful ripple spread across his stomach and he could not stop himself. He moaned into her mouth and he clutched her tighter. He could feel his face grow hot, but she did not even flinch. She kept kissing him, her hands moving across his head and neck.

"Neville," she moved her lips away from the kiss.

She rested her forehead on his eyebrow and kept her eyes closed. "Give me a minute," she exhaled. "I keep... I keep forgetting this is you."

He stayed silence for a while, soaking up the feeling of her breath on his skin. Finally, he asked, "W-what do you mean?"

She kissed his cheek gingerly, then moved down to his jaw where she planted a few more light kisses. His stomach tingled with each one. "I'm just feeling so much," she whispered. "Like, so many physical things that I'm forgetting you're attached to your lips, you know?"

He nodded. "I felt the same. Right before you pulled away. W-when I-I moaned... that's when I remembered it was you."

She smiled. "It's because we went from not touching to snogging so quickly just now."

"Y-yeah," he exhaled.

They were silent for a moment as they absorbed each other's body heat. Her arms rested loosely around his shoulders and his hands flattened on her lower back.

"You're so attractive," she murmured on his skin.

His drew a sharp breath. "M-me?"

"Who else?" she giggled.

His heart nearly thumped up his throat and out of his mouth. "W-wow, t-thanks. Y-you're... more than attractive. Y-you're... holy shit, Len, you're so good at kissing."

She leaned back and met his eye for the first time since before their snogging. "So are you!" she squealed. "Neville! Oh my god, you're really, really good. Have you ever kissed with tongue before?"

He shook his head.

"I didn't think so," she giggled. "But I would never have been able to tell if I didn't know you. You were so good! You acted like you knew what you were doing, too."

"I-I was copying you," he admitted. "I-I just mirrored everything you did. I figured you knew what you were doing."

"I don't," she smiled. "But woah. You were making me feel things I've never felt before."

The color drained from his face. "R-really?"

"Yes! I had to stop. It was too much."

Oh Merlin, he had done something wrong. He tried to read her face, but he could not gauge it. Extreme anxiety overtook his body. "D-did I do something wrong?"

"No," she shook her head quickly. "Not at all. "You did everything right. A little too right. Merlin, this is so embarrassing." She clutched her cheeks. "I didn't expect you to be that good."

Neville cocked his head. He did not understand.

"I was so turned on," Lenore said. Her cheeks lit up an even darker shade of pink than earlier. "I-I got carried away for a second and I got scared and needed to stop."

"Y-you…?" Neville finally grasped the situation. "I-I made you feel that way?"

Lenore nodded. She moved her hands up to cover her eyes. "I am mortified right now, in case you can't tell."

"N-no," he said. "Don't be! I-I feel similarly. Not the embarrassment. The… turned on part."

"Oh god, Nev," Lenore laughed. "We are so immature."

"We—we can slow down if you want."

"Yeah," Lenore grinned, "we probably should. Also, so I remember you are attached to your lips. We need to do little things, like hand holding or flirting before we start snogging. I mean, obviously we can do this whenever we want, I'm just saying, normally, let's flirt a little before."

He smiled faintly. "O-okay, I-I can do that."

"Let's go on a few dates before we come back to snogging like this."

Neville agreed. "I think that would be best."

Lenore sat down on the desktop next to Neville. They were quiet for a moment, then Lenore turned to him and smiled. "Thanks for going along with this, though."

"No-no problem."

He could see her bite her tongue through her grin. "I still can't get over how good you are."

This was the second time she had used "good" to describe him. Neville did not exactly know what the word meant in this context, but he guessed it was a compliment. "T-thanks," he said nervously.

"Really," Lenore continued, "I mean, Merlin, can I be honest with you? This time last year, I would never have guessed you were such a great kisser. I wouldn't even have guessed this time last month."

"Thanks— I think," he smiled softly. "I-I don't know what I'm doing, but I guess that works somehow."

She laughed. "Let's actually go on some dates, then we'll come back to this. I feel like we've been kissing more than getting to know each other."

"I've been getting to know your mouth pretty well."

"Stop," she giggled, shoving him slightly with her shoulder. "Just be happy I've kissed you as much as I have."

"Oh, I am," Neville said, raising his eyebrows. "I can't believe it sometimes."

Her tone changed from playful to slightly serious. She asked, "Neville… how long have you fancied me? Be honest."

He instantly panicked. The truth was, he had fancied her for over a year-and-a-half now. But something about that sounded scary. She told him to be honest, which meant she already had some idea of the truth, and if he lied, she would catch him. He decided to phrase it as not to say the amount of time. "Since… since probably spring of fourth year."

"Holy shit," she gasped. "That's a year and a half."

He cringed and nodded.

"Why… why didn't you say anything sooner?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his hands. His stomach clenched as he said, "B-because… I knew you didn't fancy me back."

Her hand touched his arm. "But I might have started, if you had given me hints."

"No," he shook his head. "It… it took you a while to even be friends with me."

"We've been friends for a while, haven't we?"

He noticed she had not yet removed her hand from his forearm, so he placed a hand over hers. "Well, actually it is a good amount of time. But not a year and a half."

"Oh…" she gave a dishonest laugh, "well… I considered you my friend. I have since probably the end of third year."

His head shot up. He could not believe her words. "No way. We hardly talked."

"That doesn't matter," she shrugged. "You were nice to me and I hope I was nice to you. That's all it takes to be my friend."

He buried his cheeks in his free hand. "Oh… oops."

She laughed. "How long have you thought we were friends?"

"Like… good friends? Or casual friends?"

"Tell me both."

"Casual friends… maybe since October last year. Good friends, probably the April this year."

She looked genuinely offended. "Geez. I thought we were good friends around December. Guess not."

"S-sorry," he stammered. "I-it's hard for me to gauge stuff like that."

"So, when we were planning that day to get revenge on Randall Quinten, you didn't consider us good friends?"

"Erm… I… I don't know. I… I figured you didn't consider me your friend."

"Neville!" she laughed. "I told you secrets! I told you about Randall and Oliver and things I didn't even tell my best friends about! I talked to you all the time!"

"S-sorry," he repeated. "I just…I convinced myself you didn't care about me."

Her face fell and she kissed him briefly on the lips, which sent a shiver down his limbs. "I did care about you. I do care about you. But you're right, it did take me a while to start fancying you."

"I told you," he grinned.

Her amusement showed on her smile. "A year and a half. Merlin, I've fancied you for a few months and it was hard enough for me not to kiss you. I don't know how you managed to stay quiet for a year and a half."

His entire body tensed. "Wait— you've fancied me for a 'few months?'"

Lenore gave him a quizzical eye and nodded.

"I thought it was more like 'a month.' Merlin, I couldn't even tell. What do you mean by a 'few?'"

"Maybe… I don't know. I remember the first time I was really attracted to you."

"W-when?"

"At that party before we took our O.W.L.s," she blushed. "I remember thinking for the first time you were cute. If you had made a move like Pansy suggested you would… I don't think I would have stopped you."

"No way."

His thoughts swirled around his brain, knocking into his skull as his mouth fell open. That party was all the way back in May. She could not have found him attractive back then. It was so long ago. He searched his mind for any recollection of moments that would indicate she fancied him. Nothing happened that he could think of, except when he caught her staring at him. Yes. That was it. They talked for nearly two hours after that encounter, but she had given no other signs. She really was great at hiding her feelings.

"Yes!" she laughed. "I didn't think you fancied me though. A year and a half, oh my god. I couldn't tell you fancied me until it became super obvious. Literally, I didn't know until right before you left to fight You-Know-Who."

"T-that's when you knew? How?"

"Your eyes," she said simply. "When did you know I fancied you?"

"When you said, 'I fancy you'."

She laughed. "Well, I think I started fancying you for real this summer. I'm not sure when, I think it was a gradual thing."

"Same for me," Neville said. "I don't even remember starting to fancy you. I just remember not fancying you and then fancying you."

Lenore kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you fancy me."

The words slipped out before he could think, "And I'm glad I can turn you on."

"NEVILLE!" she shouted, covering his mouth with her fingers. "I swear to Merlin…"

The pair erupted in laughter, until Lenore glanced at her watch on her raised hand. She gasped and jumped off the desk. "Shit! Curfew is in five minutes!"

Neville stood up. "We better get going, then."

He held the door open for her and as she locked the door, she smiled, "Hey, thanks for the snog."

"N-n-no problem," he stammered. "At all."

She laughed. "Just remember— the sooner you ask me out, the sooner we can get back to that.

He gulped and she giggled even more. "I hope you're ready for the next few months to be full of anxiety."

"I'm prepared," he breathed. "It's worth it."

She kissed his cheek with a sweet goodnight and hurried down a flight of stairs towards the dungeons, leaving Neville in a giddy state of turmoil.


	23. Chapter 23: Flowers for Lenore

Two days. Two full days since the last time she held a full conversation with Neville. Friday night was Dean's party. Sunday night, they snogged in an abandoned classroom. It was now Wednesday morning and she had not talked to the boy any more than an occasional smile or a hello. True, their schedules did not often collide. They had three classes together this year, on different days, but with barely a moment to jot down notes, much less talk, chatting each other up would be a seldom event. Classes this year were brutal. The first day warranted enough homework for a week of a normal first year load, and each day after that only grew increasingly harder. In America, the socially-awkward teens refer to their second-to-last year of high school as "the walking dead." The "juniors" are so beat down with homework, tough classes and studying for university that their brains fry.

It was like that for Lenore, though not as dramatic yet. Classes would be tough, but they were nothing she could not handle. She passed all her O.W.L.s and made high enough to continue on to the next level in every class she wanted except Astronomy. An Acceptable was passing, but not enough to bring her to N.E.W.T. level classes. She was a bit peeved at herself, as she enjoyed the subject, but perhaps it was for the best. Astronomy was a rigorous course, and she did not need the extra workload. She decided to put her main focus on Potions. She had always enjoyed the class and found herself particularly adept at the subject. Slughorn seemed impressed with her the first few class days, but of course his pride and joy was Harry Potter.

One class at which she was not particularly skilled was Transfiguration. Lenore rarely needed to study much more than reading over her notes, but something about the course this year was difficult. Vanishment, a fifth year lesson, was much easier than Conjuring, a N.E.W.T. lesson that Lenore was currently struggling with. Tomorrow, McGonagall would hand out a quiz, based only on the theoretical mechanics of the feat, but none the less complicated.

Lenore sat in the library by herself, reading over her notes with no luck. Something about the physics of the equations did not make sense to her. Maths never was her strong suit, especially in muggle schooling. Her eyes glazed over the paper, not really taking in any information at all. She hated studying. It was always easier for her to listen to people explain things than to read it herself.

"H-hi," said a voice behind her.

She turned around and saw Neville softly smiling.

"Hi!" Her mood brightened up immensely. "What's up?"

"N-nothing, I'm just wondering how you are?"

"I'm good," she smiled. "I'd be better if you sat down and scooped my brains out into the trash."

Neville glanced to the seat next to her and took his place, which made her grin. "Why scoop your brains out?"

"This conjuring stuff is killing me. I understand how to do it, but I don't understand the maths and the technical terms. Do you?"

"I-I understand the maths and terms, but I have no clue how to apply them."

"See," she smacked her hand down on her notebook, "we're opposites. Can you explain this equation to me?"

Neville examined where her finger pointed. "Y-yeah. Well, basically… the equation is useless."

Lenore peered up at him.

"If you understand what ends it achieves, you really don't need to know it. The problem is, I don't understand the end."

"The end is pretty much being able to rearrange molecules. It's you trying to control the swirling particles in the air with your mind."

Neville sat back a bit. "I never thought about it like that."

"Yeah," she nodded. "It's less confusing for me when I think about the science behind it. Obviously this stuff isn't really coming from nowhere, it's you changing molecules into the form you want them to be in."

"Wow," he exhaled, "I get it now."

She smiled with pride and did a little dance with her head, which made him laugh. "Okay, now explain this formula to me."

He pointed at the parchment. "This top part of the formula is the current state of the atmosphere. The bottom portion is what you want the atmosphere to become. Wow, it makes even more sense now that I can explain it in your words. Together, they equal whatever it is you want to conjure. You really do have a way with words."

She grinned again. "Thanks. And thanks for explaining. It makes a bit more sense. I still don't entirely understand where the letters come from— er, I know the letters mean numbers, but…"

He gave her a strange look. "Of course you know the letters aren't actual letters, why wouldn't you?"

Her mouth fell open as she realized what she had done. She had acted as if Neville would treat her like an idiot, when he clearly never would. "Shit, yeah, sorry. I just assumed… I don't know. Whenever I ask a bloke for help, I always feel like I have to make it clear that I'm not stupid, you know?"

"Do you really have to do that?"

"Yeah…" she frowned. "It's a defensive thing. If I said that sentence without the extra bit, some boy would say, 'You know the letters stand for something, right? You're not actually adding letters?' Like no fucking shit, you tit, I've figured that out."

Neville's eyes widened in amusement.

She shrugged. "Sorry. It's a sensitive issue."

"I can see that," he laughed. "It's justified."

"Thank you," she nodded simply. "I agree."

He stared at her an extra moment and she felt her heart flutter. "So, I never asked you how you were?

"I-I'm good."

"You seem nervous," she smiled.

"I, erm, I'm not."

"Nervous and a liar."

He shared her same grin. "S-sorry, I guess I am a bit nervous."

"But what's new?"

He sucked his lips in to stop from smiling, but Lenore could see the mirth in his eyes. "You are cheeky today. And… always, really."

"Mmm." She tapped her quill to her pout as she watched his gaze flicker to her lips and back to her eyes. The movement made her stomach twist, but instead of being playful about it, her brain decided to go on offense. "So, anything you want to ask me?"

"Umm, no?"

He clearly had no idea what she was talking about. She narrowed her eyes, but still played along. "Alright, that's fine."

Confusion spread across his face. "Is there something you want me to ask?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

She grinned, "'Why is the theme of first _Shrek_ movie about loving your body, but then they make jokes about Lord Farquaad being short?'"

Another strange look from him, and then a chuckle. "I have no idea what any of that means."

"I don't know, just something I heard from Margaux," she said, leaning on her elbow. "I bet you think everything I say is so weird."

"No, I think you're funny, even if I don't understand. It's the way you say it that's funny. You're quite clever and quick."

She smiled, but searched his face. He looked so uneasy around her. No, "uneasy" was not the right word. His body language was fine, but his face revealed his pure jittery nerves. She wanted to help calm him. So far, her friendly banter was not enough to quell his anxiety. Her brain recalled her conversation with Katie and Alicia the other night, about why Neville was always on edge around her. She realized she had planned to give him an entire speech about why she fancied him, but the urge to snog him had taken over her brain. She decided now would be as good a time as any to get her feelings off her chest.

"Hey," she said, as she briefly touched a hand to his arm, "can I get serious for a moment?"

"Y-yeah," he nodded. "Of course."

She surveyed the room. They could not be seen by anyone from their quiet spot in the back. Her chair screeched across the stone floor as she scooted closer to him and whispered, "I think I need to tell you something. A lot of things, actually."

"L-like what?"

"I…" she hesitated. "I've been thinking a lot about why you act the way you do around me. You know— why you get nervous sometimes. I just wanted to let you know that… even though I make fun of it sometimes, I understand why you feel that way."

Her eyes broke from his for a split second as she glanced down at her hands. She returned her gaze to his caring face. He truly wanted to hear what she had to say. She reached for his left hand on the table and held it between both of hers.

"I think… I think I need to explain to you why I fancy you. I feel like you still don't believe me, so I'm going to convince you. I'm going to tell you a lot of feelings and you know I hate feelings because they make me uncomfortable, but I think you need to hear them."

She took a deep breath and he watched her with bright eyes. "Neville, I like you because you're so kind. You're the nicest, kindest, most caring person I've ever met. I'm still not convinced a person can be as nice as you. I know I couldn't ever be as kind as you, no matter how hard I tried. You never put people down or talk bad about them or say anything mean. You're also so smart. I know you don't seem to think you are, but you are intelligent. You're great at Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts and a bunch of other subjects. You explaining things to me, in a non-patronizing way that makes it interesting is one of the kindest things you do for me. You've done so many kind things for me, I can't even name them all. I also think you've got a great personality. You're funny and laid-back and engaged. You're fun to be around. I know we haven't had too much of an opportunity to crack jokes, given the somber circumstances of this world, but really, you're actually so entertaining and humorous. And this next part is kind of embarrassing for me, so you're going to see me blush— I think you're so fit."

His already parted lips dropped open. Lenore realized how loud she was being, so she dropped her voice to an intimate whisper.

"I really do find you so attractive. You've got such pretty eyes and nice lips and skin— that sounds creepy, but you know what I mean. I like everything about the way you look. I like your shape and your height and your body type. It's… it's kind of hard for me not to snog you right now, just because I'm staring at you and thinking about it. I really like you. And I'm sorry if this rant is off-putting or weird or too much. I've never shared this many feelings. Merlin, I don't know if I've ever felt this many feelings at once. I just thought you needed to hear all this because I have been repressive with my emotions."

She continued, "You've called me beautiful and gorgeous and you obviously like my personality for whatever reason. I just wanted to let you know how I feel, and it sounds scary because I'm saying it all at once instead of spread out, but I just thought you need to know before we went any further that I really, truly, like you for you. Also, I forgot to say, you're such a great kisser. I know we haven't kissed much, but I can already tell you genuinely care about making me happy and you're receptive and willing to listen and I appreciate that so much. I appreciate everything about you."

She forced her lips to seal shut as he watched her in absolute disbelief. His mouth dropped open and closed as he stammered, "I… You… Er…"

Finally, he slipped his hand away from hers, cupped her face and kissed her. The movement surprised her. It was the first time he was ever made a move without her egging him on. And what a move it was. The kiss seemed to say everything he had been attempting to voice. She moved closer to him and placed her hands on his arms. He took her lips in his, over and over, never stopping for a breath. His fingers held her jaw so gently and reassuringly that she felt like she was melting and he was the only thing keeping her upright. He leaned away for air and stared at her for a moment, before saying, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she grinned. "I'm sorry if it was… awkward."

"No," he assured her. "I can't even tell you how much that all means to me. I… I wish I could come up with some big speech for you."

She shook her head. "You don't need to. I already know. I just needed the speech because I can't express myself in anything other than nervous rants."

He smiled softly and took his hands away from her face. "Will you follow me to my room? Not for—" He cringed. "—snogging or anything… sorry, I made that weird. I just want to show you something. Or you can wait here and I'll go get it."

"I'll follow you," she laughed.

"Only if you're done studying, I don't want to bother you."

"I never really started studying," she said as she packed her knapsack.

He grinned, "It's okay. I'm sure you'll do fine. You understand it."

He led her to the Gryffindor tower and into his empty dormitory. His other roommates were absent, but the empty room appeared a disheveled mayhem. Trunks flung open, clothes strewn about the floor, beds unmade, it all created a chaotic atmosphere. Lenore had not been in the room since the night of the pre-OWLs party, when it was tidier, but she showed no sign of alarm.

"Sorry for the mess," he winced, "we haven't had time to clean up."

"No worries."

He opened the bottom cupboard below his dresser drawers and pulled out a clear glass vase tied with a gold ribbon and filled with blooming flowers, all different shades of dusty pink. They looked similar to roses, but something about them was different. They shimmered in the sunlight that streamed in from the windows and their stems contained no signs of thorns. The flowers were rich in color and deliciously scented. Lenore drew a sharp breath as he placed the vase in her hands.

"I really am sorry it took me this long to ask you out. I was going to surprise you with these later tonight, but we ran into each other sooner. Lenore, would you want to go on a date with me this weekend?"

Her mouth hung open. "Bloody hell… So… I didn't have to give you that huge speech?"

"Err—no, not exactly, although I'm really glad you did. It makes me feel so much better. Really, thank you. But I was going to ask you out today anyways. That's why I was so nervous right then."

She cringed, a little embarrassed. "And you got me flowers? Neville, this is so sweet! Oh my god, nobody has ever given me anything like this."

He blushed. "Y-you like them?"

"Yes! What are they? Roses?"

"They're j-just roses, but grown with special soil with magical properties."

"And pink? Doesn't that mean something?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, "like you said, rose colors have different meanings. Pink means admiration and sweetness."

She let out a small squeal of glee. "Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome."

"I'm kind of freaking out, to be completely honest," she said through a huge smile. "I've never had a boy give me anything. This is… I don't know the right words… it means a lot to me that you'd do something so kind."

He bit his lip. "G-good, I-I'm glad you like it."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Also, yeah, I'll definitely go out with you. What day did you say? Friday?"

"Friday would be good, or Saturday. Whichever one you want."

"Friday," she grinned.

"O-okay. We can go down to the lake after dinner."

She nodded. "Sounds great."

She gave another restrained noise of joy as she looked down at her flowers, which made him laugh.

"They won't die, either, the flowers," he pointed to the vase. "I mean, you can throw them away whenever you like, but if you keep giving them water, they shouldn't wilt."

"No way— you can do that?"

"Y-yeah," he said, "with a few charm protections."

"They didn't teach us that in Herbology."

"N-no, I-I read up on it."

She beamed. "You're so smart."

"Th-thanks," he stammered. "You are, too. I see you in Potions this year. Besides Harry, you're probably the best student."

"Harry's got that book though. I saw it. It's old and has notes in it. I'm not discrediting him, I'm just… pointing that out."

"Mmm, a bit defensive there?"

"Hush," she laughed.

"No," he said, "I've heard you make potions for that guy… the one Margaux's friend is roommates with?"

"Dagwood?"

"Yeah! I heard him say you brew a potion that clears up his skin."

She nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. And no matter how much Pansy hates me, I make her a potion that stops her hair from being frizzy. And I can make potions to grow hair. I haven't figured out how to do it to hair on your head, but it works great on eyebrows and… I don't know, wherever else people want hair? I gave some to Theodore Nott and he used it for chest hair, which… is so weird."

"I didn't know you were friends with Theodore Nott," his eyes grew wide.

"No," she shook her head. "No, definitely not. I mean, sometimes I sit by him and his friends at dinner, but there's a difference between being friends and being friendly. I'm surprised he doesn't hate me, to be completely honest. I try to stay on his good side, what with his Death Eater father and all."

Neville nodded. "I would."

"Anyway," she smiled, "I should be going. I've got to put these flowers in my room before I go to dinner. I'll see you on Friday? Er, well, I'm sure we'll talk before then."

He grinned. "Alright, see you whenever."

She gave him a small wave goodbye and he held the door open for her as she descended the staircase. Lenore strolled into her dormitory with a hello to three of four roommates. Pansy was nowhere to be seen, yet again today. Lenore had hardly encountered the girl at all this first week back.

She gently placed her bouquet of roses on her dresser and opened her middle drawer. As she changed into her pajamas, Blair's voice rang out, "Who are those from?"

Lenore turned around to see Blair pointing towards the vase of pink flowers. Sh instantly panicked. Somehow, she had forgotten that her roommates would notice the flowers and be curious. It would have been better had she turned them invisible for the time being. Oh Merlin, her silence was suspicious. Odette and Circe were now peering at her as well.

"They're… they're from Katie," she lied. "We picked them today."

"Lenore!" Blair laughed. "You are such a bad liar."

"They're from a boy, aren't they?" Circe teased.

"No!" Lenore tried to hide her cringe. She really was bad at lying when she did not have a plan set in place. "They're just from Katie."

"Lenny, you have to tell us who they're really from," Odette said as she scooted to the foot of her bed in anticipation.

"I'm dying to know," Circe added.

"I bet they're from Oliver," said Blair. "Or who's that other prat who asked you out last year?"

"You could be referring to any number of tossers," Lenore rolled her eyes.

"Is Longbottom included in those tossers?"

"No."

Technically it was true. He asked her out this year, not last.

"And he's not a tosser."

"Then Oliver. Oh my god, are you dating Oliver?"

Lenore took a deep breath and instantly shut her mouth. "Can I tell you lot some gossip in exchange for not telling you who these flowers are from?"

The three girls exchanged glances.

"It better be good gossip," Circe said.

"It involves me and Oliver."

Another mental tally of each other's reactions.

"We'll find out who the flowers are from eventually," Blair spoke up, "so yes, definitely tell us some gossip first."

Lenore placed her flowers lovingly on the top of her dresser. They looked even more beautiful in the soft glow of the Slytherin dormitory. She curled up at the base of her bed and watched her three roommates stare at her with impatience. Blair had stopped reading her textbook. Odette set aside her nail polish bottle and blew on her nails to dry them. Circe ran a brush through her long purple-tipped hair and then flung the brush onto her dresser. Lenore took a deep breath.

"So… Oliver kissed me twice this summer."

The girls all screamed in excitement.

"No, no!" Lenore quickly said. "It… it was against my will."

Their faces immediately fell.

"The first time he kissed me was at a wedding. I didn't exactly tell him no, but I pulled away and he got really pissy with me, so I told him to fuck off. The next time, he was drunk and grabbed me at a party. Neville had to peel him off me."

The girls were quiet for a moment.

Odette was the first to speak. "Holy shit, Len, I'm sorry."

The other two nodded. "What a cocksucker," Circe said.

"Total arsehole," added Blair.

"We won't talk about him again."

"Thanks," Lenore answered them. "I appreciate it. I'm not scarred by it, don't worry. It doesn't bother me. Just… if you hear other girls talking about him, make sure they know what a complete cunt he is."

Odette nodded. "Definitely."

After a pause, Blair wondered out loud, "Do you mind if I ask what he said to you after the first kiss? When he was being pissy?"

Lenore shook her head. "No, I don't mind at all. He told me he fancied me, and I said I couldn't kiss him because I didn't like him. I think that hurt his fragile masculinity, because then he started—"

She trailed off. This was the part where Oliver started discussing Neville. She did not yet want to talk about Neville in front of her roommates.

"What?" Circe broke her trained of thought. "What did start doing?"

Lenore bit her cheeks. She decided she did not care. Her roommates would find out about Neville eventually. "He… he accused me of fancying Neville. I told him it wasn't true, and then he started comparing himself to Neville. About how he's supposedly more 'fit' than him and how he plays 'quidditch' and—"

Blair burst out laughing.

"—and basically he was being a real bitch. I told him to fuck off, because it actually really hurt my feelings. I'm still a bit sad thinking about it."

"Tell us about how Longbottom rescued you," Circe begged.

"Yeah," she cringed, "I don't know if it was a rescue. I could have handled it myself, but he sped up the process. So, I was at Dean Thomas's party and I went to look for Neville. He was sitting on the kitchen counter by Terry and Oliver for some reason, and within like five seconds of me being near them, Oliver just stood up and started trying to snog me. His hands were everywhere, but mainly on my arse, and he was kissing me in the most disgusting way. Like both my lips were between his. It was gross, but he was drunk off his ass. Neville immediately saw me trying to get away from him, so he throttled Oliver around the neck and I kicked him in the balls. He fell down and cried, which was pretty great."

"Alright!" Blair clapped.

Circe added, "I hope he learned his lesson!"

"Oh, I'm sure he did. I'm not ever talking to him again, and I'm warning every girl to stay away from him."

"What a complete arse. At least Longbottom was there to help."

"Neville is so sweet to you," Odette sighed.

Lenore started to open her mouth and voice her agreement, but Blair gasped.

"That's who the flowers are from." She let out a small scream of glee. "Longbottom got you flowers!"

"No!" Lenore screeched. Oh Merlin, she figured it out. She did not want to tell her roommates anything yet. It would just make everything more difficult. "No."

"Come on," Blair said, "Longbottom is the only guy you talk to who would do something like that."

"I kind of feel like Theodore Nott would do something like that," shrugged Circe.

"Yeah, honestly, me too," Odette agreed. "He's an old soul like that. But he's also a mean blood-purist, so I don't know, maybe that's not something to revere."

Lenore attempted to interrupt, but Blair spoke over her stammering. "Nott is a purist and a racist, so I'm leaning towards Longbottom. And he does all that geeky stuff about herbology, so flowers make sense. Lenore, it's Longbottom, isn't it? You're with Longbottom."

Lenore scanned her roommates faces for a few seconds. She sighed. "He asked me out today and I said yes."

Odette was the only one who appeared excited. A huge grin appeared on her face. Blair and Circe gave off the impression of being mildly disenchanted.

Circe asked, "Not out of pity, right?"

"No!" Lenore said. "I… I fancy him, too. A great deal. But none of you can tell Pansy. Merlin, please don't tell Pansy. I can't deal with her right now. Actually, don't tell anyone, please. We're keeping it quiet."

"That's smart," Blair said. "Who knows how much abuse Longbottom will take for this?"

Lenore's heart felt as if it had been stomped on. It was true, this relationship would be harder on him than her.

"We'll keep your secret," Circe promised.

"WELL I THINK THIS IS GREAT," Odette shouted. "Really, I'm so happy for you two. I always thought you were cute together."

"I'm happy for you, too!" Circe said as Blair nodded enthusiastically along. "Just a little… I don't know. Do you realize how much shit Longbottom and you are going to take for this?"

"Really," Blair said, "you are going to get so much shit. Slytherins are so territorial. And Gryffindors are just as bad. Not to mention Longbottom doesn't nearly have the social reputation you have. Are you ready for this?"

Lenore frowned. Her mood had changed dramatically since the time she had entered the dormitory. Reality always had a way of bringing her down. "Neville isn't social inept, like people make him out to be. He's just shy, but once he starts talking, he's actually funny and interesting. You know I dislike people who can't make conversation. Also, I really don't care what people think. If I hear anyone has a problem with this, I'll pounce on them. I fancy Neville and he fancies me and that's all that matters."

Blair smiled. "I'm proud of you."

"Me, too," Circe said. "You always know what you want and you go for it."

"Lenore," Odette interrupted the touching moment, "have you snogged him yet?"

She laughed. "Yeah."

"No way!" Blair exclaimed. "How was he?"

A blush crept over Lenore's face. "Bloody fantastic. He's so good, you guys. I can't believe it."

Circe raised her eyebrows as Blair and Odette giggled. "Is he really? I would never have guessed."

"Yes, bloody hell. He's so nice about it all. I don't know… when he kisses me, I can just tell how much he cares about me. I've never had that before."

The girls all let out a small, "Awww," before Blair added, "I think he'll make a great boyfriend."

"I think so, too," Circe agreed. "You need someone like Neville. Quiet. Able to understand your dark humor. Willing to be bossed around."

"Alright," giggled Lenore, "quit it. I'm not that bad."

"You're the dominate one and you know it," Blair laughed. "I'm the same way with Mallory."

Lenore gasped. "Oh hey, how are things with you and Mallory?"

At that moment, Pansy entered their dormitory. She slammed the door shut and muttered inaudible phrases to herself.

"What's wrong?" asked Circe.

Pansy threw her purse on the bed and began taking her shoes off. Once one trainer was off, she flung it with such force into her trunk that it ricocheted out and towards Blair's face.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Blair screeched as she ducked from the shoe.

"Fucking Draco," she groaned. "I hate him."

"Except, you definitely don't," Lenore pointed out.

Pansy shot her a glare. "No, I don't. Which makes it even worse."

"Tell us what happened," Odette urged her.

Her other shoe flew into the trunk and she began ripping off her earrings. "I basically already did."

"When?"

"When I said 'Fucking Draco.'"

The four girls were silent. "Wait—" Lenore started.

Circe screamed. "You're fucking Draco?"

Pansy groaned, then finished with an annoyed scream. "Yes."

"When did this start?" Blair demanded.

"This summer. At a party."

"You just… slept with him?" Lenore asked. "Had you even snogged him before?"

She began changing out of her uniform. "We kissed once during fifth year. But it was literally just one kiss."

"And you went straight to sex?" Odette's eyes widened. "Wow. I can't even imagine."

"Don't do it," Pansy sighed. "Especially if you fancy the guy. He thinks I'm a slut now."

"WHAT?" Blair yelled.

Lenore took over the outrage. "Pansy, what the hell? He's mad at you for sleeping with him?"

"That's messed up," Circe said. "He's as much at fault as you."

She groaned once more. "I'm not talking about this with you lot. You don't understand."

"We understand Draco is an absolute prick," Lenore said.

Pansy's head swiveled around to her. "You don't understand anything about Draco."

Lenore retreated. "You're right, I don't. But don't let him treat you badly."

Pansy stole a towel from her dresser, whipped it dramatically over her shoulder and said, "When I get back, all the lights had better be out, because I'm bloody well going to sleep, whether or not I have to extinguish the candle light with each of your tears."

Pansy stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. When Blair heard the water running, she said, "Well, at least one of us is having good luck with men."

She smiled at Lenore, who grinned back. "You and Mallory seem to be doing well."

"Oh, we are," she said. "He gets better every day."

Lenore beamed as she extinguished her own candle. She decided to let Pansy sleep and bring this subject up some other time. For now, she would sleep peacefully with thoughts of Neville dancing around her mind.


	24. Chapter 24: Luna's Spell

**Hey guys! Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I've got this chapter for you, then also this week I'll be posting Lenore and Neville's first date. Enjoy! Please review and let me know what you want to see in future chapters! Remember to search for "The Extras" on Tumblr to get an idea of how I imagine the characters.** **theextras dot tumblr dot com**

Margaux needed a retreat from the Gryffindors. Every single one of them was getting on her nerves. This week had been terrible. Boring and terrible. And for some reason, lonely.

Her closest friends were dating. Ginny and Dean always seemed to be together now, their hands always touching some part of the other's body. Dean's hand on Ginny's back. Ginny's hand on Dean's thigh. Margaux could not decide exactly what about them together angered her. Possibly the fact that she was a third wheel. Without a moment alone with either Ginny or Dean, she was forced to converse with them as a singular unit. She no longer heard both their opinions and stories. Now, Dean would stop talking if Ginny opened her mouth, and Ginny would do the same. It was beginning to get on Margaux's nerves. Her friends were not as exciting as they normally were.

Margaux was not upset at Dean, nor Ginny, for dating. It was true, she had snogged Dean because she found him attractive. But that's all. He was fit— though, he was not boyfriend material. Besides, Margaux had a boyfriend. She had not told Michael about her kiss with Dean, and she did not plan to. A letter from Michael sat unopened on her dresser, but there was no time to study his words. She was trekking down to the lake with Derek Davies, Dagwood Bukowski, Sivan Kalpar, and, of course, Luna Lovegood. She had not seen any of the blokes since the beginning of the summer holiday, and she needed some time with Luna. Her fellow blonde witch was similarly uneasy around Ginny and Dean, Margaux could tell, but she would never voice any cruel opinions.

The trouble is, tonight Luna may be required to voice a cruel opinion. Sivan Kalpur had been after Luna for a few months now, subtly hinting at his affection for her. He was a good-looking bloke, tall, dark curly hair, tanned skin, with some of the thickest, most well-kept eyebrows Margaux had ever seen. Sivan was roommates with Derek and Dagwood and he showed every quality of a well-rounded Ravenclaw. The boy spoke three languages, including Urdu while with his father's family, Arabic on his mother's side, and of course, English with a majority of his mates. Sivan excelled in Ancient Runes, a language in itself, and Transfiguration, which would come in handy tonight, as the group was determined to canoe across the Black Lake, despite having no access to kayaks. Sivan, who was quite advanced in his studies, had taught the four how to conjure during the summertime. It was difficult work, and they were far from perfect, but their limited conjuring would suffice for now.

"So, Luna," Sivan flashed his pearly whites, "how was your holiday?"

"Oh, very good!" she cooed, blind to Sivan's pining. "Dad and I travelled to Sweden in search of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

Sivan's eyes widened, along with Dagwood's. Margaux and Derek simply smiled. "The what?" he asked.

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack! It's a creature that lives in Sweden. Legend has it that they are purple, with scaly skin, and a large singular horn in the middle of their head. They are quite friendly, although a bit timid."

"Oh!" nodded Sivan. "Did you see one?"

Margaux appreciated how kind Sivan treated Luna. A lot of people at Hogwarts teased Luna for her sometimes absurd beliefs, but never Sivan. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. Margaux assumed this was because Sivan himself practiced some strange hobbies. While not as strange as hunting for imaginary creatures, Sivan played magical card games during meal times. These card games at the Ravenclaw table often grew wild, with participants screaming incantations, placing bets, or smacking cards onto the stack. The rules of the game were strict and unforgiving, although Margaux did not understand how to play and she did not want to find out.

Dagwood had remained quiet the entire journey down to the lake. It was true, the boy was normally quiet, but Margaux did not know why he was extra silent today. The group chat was lively, they were all mates, but Dagwood's mind seemed preoccupied. She fell back to speak with Dagwood without the rest of the squad hearing.

"Dag," she punched his shoulder. "What's up? Why do you look like a train ran over you?"

He appeared startled, as if Margaux had broken his trance. "What? Oh, nothing. I'm fine. Perfectly fine."

"You don't look fine," she squinted at him.

"I'm…"

He glanced around to the rest of his mates. Derek and Sivan excitedly discussed international quidditch as Luna stared up at a flowering tree with wide eyes.

"Margaux, can I tell you something?" he whispered. "Since you harassed me for my secret, I-I figured you might want to hear more. And I have no one to talk about this with."

"Yeah!" Margaux said excitedly. She loved gossip. Finding out information about people's private lives was her favorite past time. She never revealed this information to anyone outside of the secret circle, but she enjoyed being in on secrets. "Tell me! Is it about Helaine?"

"It is," he sighed. "Mar, she's just so quiet. And I'm so quiet. I don't know how it's going to work. When we start talking it's fine, but getting one of us to start a conversation like pulling teeth."

"Do you have any classes together?" Margaux asked. "Oh wait! You do! We're all in Ancient Runes together! I always sit next to her. Why don't you join us? I can help the conversation along."

"That wouldn't be awkward?"

"No!" she waved him off. "The furthest thing. It would work out great. She's comfortable around me, mostly. She'll like having you sit with us."

He hesitated. "Okay. I'll sit by you all next class on Tuesday."

"Yes!" she grinned. "Do it. You two would be such a cute couple. Helaine is so gorgeous. Have you seen how she's doing her makeup now? It looks absolutely stunning on her."

Dagwood nodded, his eyes vacant of anything except worry. "I-I noticed."

Margaux grinned. It would be so nice to have a boy fawn over her, like Dagwood did Helaine or Neville did Lenore. Sure, Michael was not exactly the romantic type straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie; but he was faithful and steady, never doing anything to trick her or play with her mind. He had a level of candor and sincerity that Margaux greatly appreciated and admired.

Derek playfully shook Margaux's shoulders, releasing her from her trance. Unknown to her and Dagwood, also seemingly in a pensive trance, they had caught up with the rest of the group at the lake's shore. A wide smile blossomed on Margaux's face as she took in the beautiful surroundings. The sun was hours away from gently kissing the horizon, gaggles of geese flew overhead, crying out to their fellow aviators, and the earth smelled fresh and clean. This evening was exactly what she needed.

She stood next to Luna, who took Margaux's hand and exclaimed, "Mar, I have a wonderful new spell that Father and I have been developing. I want to show you it out on the water."

Margaux squeezed her best friend's hand and said, "I'd love to see it."

She wondered what new thing Luna could be working on. Whatever it was, it was sure to be original and creative.

Derek sauntered up to his companions and said, "Alright everyone, let's get this canoe thing figured out. Lu and Mar, I want you to conjure one canoe for the three of us. And make it look nice, not like you found it in a dumpster. Dag and Sivan, use your impressive Ravenclaw minds. I want it to scream post-classical venetian style."

"And just what are you going to do, Davies?" Margaux chuckled at her mate who usually found a way to weasel his way out of work.

Derek conjured himself a mint and white lawn chair and laid across it like a sunbathing cat. "Supervise," he coyly stated through curled lips.

Dagwood and Sivan remained ignorant of this exchange as they set to work on their canoe. Margaux noted how good the both were at taking orders without question and she thought about how Sivan's relative submissiveness would be a lovely compliment to Luna's insistent personality. Margaux, quite used to these cunning antics from her sister, would not stand for Derek's shenanigans. A mischievous glint lit up her eyes as she looked towards Luna who watched Derek and Margaux with mirth.

As Derek sunbathed, not paying attention to either girl, Margaux signaled for Luna to help her tip over the recumbent male. With a forceful lift, the blonde witches tipped Derek into the Black Lake, causing fits of giggles as Derek lay in ankle deep water with a petulant grimace.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Derek shouted. "Someone dry me off before I drown you two, as well!"

He feebly attempted to splash water at Margaux's feet and he climbed out of the water, soaking wet, and laughing hysterically at his tormentors. Margaux dried him off with a smile spell and a group hug.

"Perhaps you should assist us with making our canoe," suggested Luna. "You ought to make it classy, after all, we don't want to be the embarrassment of the Black Lake."

Sivan and Dagwood snickered at Luna's response, earning her even more admiration from Sivan. The duo had long since finished their task and observed the trio quickly conjuring the other vessels, with help from the older Sivan.

The two kayaks bobbed in the water like a small fleet.

"Here Luna, I know you like the front, so go ahead and hop in," said Margaux, as she grasped the rear of the boat on shore.

After Luna gracefully climbed on the boat, Derek hopped in the middle seat, his long legs folded like a lawn chair. Finally, Margaux climbed in and they were off, hovering towards the shore and waiting for their companions.

"Mate, would you rather have front or rear?" Dagwood asked Sivan.

"To tell you the truth, I've never been on a boat before. I can't even swim. I only came because Derek invited me," Sivan whispered, looking out to the water.

Dagwood traced his line of sight and it rested on Luna. Dagwood recognized the minor fib in Sivan's last statement, but decided to let it be.

"How about you take the front? The person in the back usually has to work the oars a little harder."

Dagwood smiled as he handed Sivan the paddle and together they climbed in.

"What is taking them so long? Are they having a leisurely conversation?" Margaux asked from the water. She was ready and excited to have some fun.

"I do not believe that Sivan has ever been kayaking before," said Luna.

Derek flailed his limbs in annoyance and discomfort. "Who cares, it's not that hard. They better hurry because I'm kneeing myself in the tit."

The small canoe was not large enough to contain his lanky stature. After all, the vessel had been designed by two girls much shorter than him.

Dagwood and Sivan slowly paddled up to the trio. Their canoe spun in circles as Dagwood paddled one direction and Sivan paddled another, but the intelligent newbie quickly amended his mistake. After all, he didn't want to look like a fool in front of Luna. Dagwood utilized his muscular arms to overcome Sivan's minor mistakes. He did not want to make the boy feel bad, so he did not inform Sivan that the paddle must be more than a centimeter in the water for it to be effective.

Margaux noticed Dagwood's kindness and flashed him a smile, which he returned. He really was such a sweet boy. Margaux decided to do everything in her power to help him and Helaine get together. They were two of the most kind and genuine people she knew.

"Margoooooooooo," whined Derek, as he reclined back on Margaux's legs, "this is uncomfortable. Switch spots with me."

"Derek, you'd be even more cramped back here. Maybe you could switch kayaks with Sivan? He wouldn't mind. Plus, theirs is a bit bigger."

Derek followed Margaux's line of vision, noticed his seat located next to Luna, and then turned to see the larger canoe quickly, but awkwardly approaching. "I like the way you think."

She chuckled along with Derek as she realized the boy intended to bribe his way into the other canoe by enticing Sivan with a seat next to Luna. The other canoe was now parallel to theirs. Sivan's smile faltered as he looked nervously down into the azure water teeming with magical life. Margaux noticed Sivan putting on a brave face, so offered, "Hey Sivan, you're actually a great kayaker! Especially for someone who just started!"

The shy Sivan, quite unused to the positive affirmation Margaux constantly showered upon her friends, murmured, "Thank you."

Derek sat up from his recumbent position against Margaux and begged, "Sivan, please, for the love of Merlin, switch canoes with me. I'm dying in here. My knees are up to my eyes. I feel like I'm doing yoga."

He stood up swiftly and placed one foot inside Dagwood and Sivan's canoe without waiting for an answer.

Sivan assessed his options. He could either stay in the same boat and not have to worry about falling into the water while switching vessels, or he could risk plummeting in the water for a chance to sit next to Luna.

Sivan was a logical person. He needed time to consider his options. But with everyone staring at him, including Luna, he panicked. He hesitantly stood up to appease Derek, who hopped into their canoe before Sivan could even process what happened. Laughter rang over their ears as the two boys stood in the rocking boat, desperately clinging to each other in attempts not to fall into the water.

"See, mate, that wasn't so bad," said Derek, as he plopped down in the more spacious canoe. "Now it's your turn."

Unfortunately, Derek's movement had caused a larger gap between the vessel, making Sivan's task slightly more difficult, despite Margaux's attempts to lessen the gap. The nervous Ravenclaw placed one foot in the girls' canoe, his eyes bulging out at the pristine blue water beneath him. He could have sworn he saw movement in the waves' depths. This thought forced him to hurriedly pick up his other leg and swing it into his new canoe, causing himself to rapidly lose balance. His arms flailed in wide circles as he began to tip forward. Margaux and Dagwood, both quick to the draw, reached for their wands to help save the hydrophobic boy. As Margaux was about to mutter _leviosa_ , a petite white hand reached out to grab Sivan's coffee-colored fingers.

Just like that, his thrashing movements disappeared. Her steadying hand gave his a quick squeeze as she released it. He stood for a few moments, looking both confused and happy, then sat down. He leaned forward to whisper something in Luna's ear. Margaux surmised that it was an earnest thank you. Dagwood, Derek, and Margaux shared a knowing smile.

Sivan leaned back up and asked loudly, "Alright! What do you lot like to do out here?"

"We could play bumper canoes! Or race! Or play a twist on Shine Theif from Mario Kart!" shouted Margaux. She could not contain her excitement. "Oh wait. I'm the only halfblood out here. You all wouldn't know what that last one is, but basically I would enchant a ball to glow and we'd race to try and catch it!"

Margaux's enthusiasm was contagious and they decided on the last activity. The sole Gryffindor conjured a glowing ball and cast it far away. In the distance, the a yellow glowing orb rested on the water.

"Okay mates, we're going race to pick up that sunshine, " Margaux beamed. Her smile was almost as bright as the shinning light on the lake. "I'll create a countdown from ten."

Without waiting for the timer, Derek swiftly began to paddle his and Dagwood's canoe.

"Eat my dust, you wankers!" Derek screamed behind his gaining canoe.

"Derek, this isn't fair!" said the non-paddling Dagwood from the canoe's rear.

"Oh Dag, don't be such a Hufflepuff"

Dagwood reluctantly picked up his paddle to help his ambitious roommate.

In the other canoe, Margaux yanked the oar with all her might and Luna steered with accuracy. What Sivan lacked in kayaking skills, he made up for with his cleverness. Instead of rowing, he used his wand to enchant waves of water, which he propelled towards the other canoe.

Water bombarded Derek and Dagwood's canoe, foiling their advances and allowing the other canoe to overtake theirs.

Sivan, Luna, and Margaux passed the other canoe with joyous laughs as they grew closer to the glowing sphere. The trio obtained the ball and Dagwood and Derek finally caught up with them. In a sportsmanlike gesture, Dagwood and Derek clapped for their winning friends.

"That was an amazing spell with the water, Sivan," said Dagwood. "You'll have to teach it to us!"

"Oh!" Margaux interjected. "Speaking of a spell, wasn't there one you wanted to show me, Luna?"

"Yes! You're quite right. It must have slipped my mind" replied Luna. She stood up in the canoe. As she wobbled, Sivan reached out for her hand and she took it. Margaux could see the anxiety on his face.

"Father and I developed it," she continued. "It's called _Seaptrapedis_ and it gives the user the ability to walk on water. Or its supposed to. We haven't tested it out yet."

"I don't know if there are any spells that would defy the laws of aquatic physics like—"

But Sivan's astute proclamation was cut short as Luna uttered the spell and stepped over the side of the vessel.

The water quickly enveloped her. She did not return to the surface immediately. The remaining four people looked at each other.

"Can she swim?" asked Dagwood.

"I… I have no idea!" Margaux shouted with urgency.

After a few more seconds, Sivan dove into the water after her, forgetting his own inability to swim. The canoe teetered precariously on the water, nearly shaking Margaux into the water with them until Derek reached out to steady her boat.

Luna emerged from the water after a moment, sputtered a bit of water from her mouth, and simply voiced, "I guess the spell needs a little work!"

But the blonde's statement went unheard over Dagwood's frantic scream. "He can't swim! Sivan can't swim! We've got to help him!"

Water splashed into their canoe as Dagwood jumped in to rescue Sivan. Luna dove deep into the water and opened her eyes to witness Sivan sinking, still holding his breath. She pointed her wand at him and shouted, " _Ascendio_!"

He shot out of the water, landing next to Margaux in the canoe like a flopping fish. Margaux expelled the water from his lungs while Derek conjured a towel. Dagwood and Luna, both sopping wet, made their way back to the canoes in relief. Derek conjured more towels for them and wrapped one around Sivan.

"Sivan" Luna asked gently, "are you okay? I didn't mean for you to jump after me like that! I'm sorry!"

He coughed a couple more times. "I'm okay, it was a rash decision. I didn't have time to think. I just… I got scared when I saw your head go under. T-thank you for saving me, Luna. I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't worry," she said kindly. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"We're just glad you're safe," Derek spoke for everyone. He reached out and patted his friends back.

"Yes," said Luna. She gave Sivan a short kiss on the cheek, which nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. Derek and Margaux instantly made eye contact and dropped their mouths open in a silence scream of glee.

Sivan watched Luna with loving admiration, until Dagwood interrupted his thoughts. "How about we paddle back to shore?"

"No, please," gulped Sivan as he shook his head, "I don't want to ruin the fun."

"I am getting a little bit tired of the lake," Margaux said. "Plus, I heard from a group of seventh years that the house elves give out ice-cream if you ask nicely."

Dagwood and Derek nodded with enthusiasm and Luna smiled fondly at Sivan. "Okay, I'd like that" he agreed.

The two canoes began paddling back to shore. Margaux and Dagwood paddled in the back as Sivan and Luna both stared at the beauty of the lake in front of them. Derek belted out a Britney Spears song that Margaux tuaght him long ago. She joined him in singing "Circus," which earned some hearty laughter from Dagwood. Margaux had not felt this content in a long time. The hours on the lake were exactly what she needed during this tumultuous point in her life.

Later that evening, she returned to the Gryffindor common room looking tan and happy. She rolled her eyes at the sight of Ginny and Dean on a couch together near the fireplace. Two ice cream cones adorned Margaux's hands as she ascended the stairs to her dormitory.

Margaux strolled into her room and saw Helaine reading a textbook for Ancient Runes. Her strikingly beautiful face turned around to greet her friend. Her thick hair fell in her face, before she swooped it to the side. She had already changed into her pajamas.

"Hey, Hell" Margaux greeted Helaine with her personal nickname. "I brought you an ice cream cone, do you want it?"

Helaine nodded and the blonde handed her the treat. "Thanks, Mar! Where have you been? I figured you'd want to study for Ancient Runes. We do have a test next Monday."

Margaux took a seat on her own comforter and licked her ice cream. "I decided that I need a break from studying. This year has already been killer and we're not even a full week in. Luna, Derek, Sivan, _Dagwood_ —"

She added emphasis on his name.

"—and I went canoeing on the lake. You should join us next time. Everyone thinks you're swell."

She noted the light blush appear on Helene's hazel cheeks.

"But anyway, back to Ancient Runes. I would be lost in that class without you and Dagwood. You're both so helpful. If you don't mind, I was thinking about asking him to sit next to us in that class. I don't think he speaks that much with the people he sits near. That way, I can have both of you guys there. Like a little study group. Are you okay with Dagwood sitting next to us?"

"No, no I don't mind," Helaine said with a small smile.

Margaux pulled out her well-worn Ancient Runes textbook and began to reread it. Maybe she didn't need any help in that class, but she was not about to reveal this.

"Sounds great."

The two brainy girls sat side by side, eating ice-cream and reading their texts.


	25. Chapter 25: First Date

Lenore stood silently at the door to the Great Hall. Each time the door swung open, the breeze caused hair to fly into her face and get stuck on her red lipstick.

She was not sure what to wear, so she went with ankle boots, leggings, an oversized thin flannel shirt, and a knit scarf. It was a few weeks from October and the weather was unseasonably chilly at best, especially in the evening. Soon the snow would arrive, bring with it brisk air, red cheeks, and freezing cold dormitories. Lenore loved winter in the U.K., but it was much more harsh than winters in America. She still was not used to the long cold months.

More and more people passed, some staring at the girl loitering by the door, others so deep in thought or conversation that they did not notice.

"Hi Lenore," a few people said as they passed. Lenore smiled kindly and waved hello. Most of the people greeting her were second years she had rescued from Slytherin torment last year.

"Hi Lenore."

This time the voice was much deeper.

"Hi Neville!" she said, seeing him to her right. He donned nice black trousers, a knit sweater with a zipper, and a thin coat.

" _Shit,_ " Lenore thought, " _I should run back to my room and get a coat._ "

"A-are you ready to go?" he asked.

Lenore looked down at her watch. She wanted to make the most of this date. She did not want to waste time fetching a jacket.

"Yes," she grinned.

"Alright," he said, "you wanna follow me?"

The pair made small talk as they walked out of the castle and over the grassy knolls until they reached a rocky downhill section just outside the castle. Neville jumped down each stone with ease, but Lenore hesitated. She did not want to slip and fall in her boots. Neville noticed she was quite a ways behind him. He stopped and turned around.

"Here," he said, much quieter than he intended. He was not even sure Lenore had heard, but she still grabbed his outstretched hand. He steadied her as she hopped down the ridge. When they got to the bottom, he expected her to let go of his hand and she did— only to wrap her arm into his. He gulped and glanced at her.

"Where are we going?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"T-there's this section of the lake I really want to show you. It's beautiful, especially this time of year."

"Oh, okay. Sounds good."

The pair made small talk about the weather or their classes until they reached the edge of a thick, dimly-lit forest. The lake was nowhere in sight. Lenore had never come at it from this angle.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Lenore said, clutching him tighter.

"I'm certain," Neville said. "I'd never bring you somewhere dangerous. It's just a small group of trees, I promise."

Lenore followed him through the tall pines and emerged on the other side to a sea of oranges and reds and yellows. The lake was about fifteen feet in front of them, shining orange and purple from the sun's late afternoon stage. They seemed to be in a large valley, as trees changing into their autumn leaves surrounded them on every side. The grass underneath their feet was thick and green. Lenore's mouth dropped.

Neville smiled. "It's great, isn't it?"

"I didn't even know the lake could be this pretty!"

"Me neither, until I got lost and found this place."

Lenore shook her head and stared. The view should be on a postcard.

"D-do you want to sit down?" Neville asked. "I thought we could just talk."

"Yeah," Lenore said, snapping out of her awed daze. "Lead the way."

Neville pulled a blanket out of his charmed-to-be-larger coat pocket, set it on the ground, and sat down so that he could lean his back against a tree. Lenore sat on the blanket to his right and also leaned back. Along with the blanket, he pulled out a bottle of Madam Mamba's Fruit Juice and two champagne glasses.

She glanced up at him. "Where'd you get this?"

"Seamus knicked it from the kitchen," he shrugged.

Her face lit up. "Well, tell him thanks."

He poured the liquid, which resembled the texture of muggle boba tea and tasted slightly of pineapple and strawberries, into both glasses and handed her one. She thanked him and settled in next to him, staring out onto the lake.

"Neville," she said after a moment, "Tell me one thing about yourself that I don't know."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

Neville thought a moment. "Whenever I eat a burger and chips, I don't eat the chips separately. I put them inside the bun and eat them together."

"What?" Lenore laughed. "Does that taste good?"

"I like it," he shrugged. "Tell me something about you."

"Do you know what a pencil is?"

"The yellow things muggles write with?"

"Yes! I have a piece of pencil lead stuck in my foot."

His eyes flashed between her eyes and her feet. "Are you serious?"

Lenore whipped off her shoe and sock before Neville could ask my more questions. "See that grey dot?" She pointed to the top of her foot.

"Yeah, oh my god."

"I was playing a game when I was eight where I juggled three pencils. One of them fell on my foot and the graphite has been there ever since."

"Is it dangerous?"

"No."

Neville grinned. "Why would you think juggling sharp objects was a good idea?"

"We all make mistakes, Longbottom! Don't hate."

Neville shook his head. "I bet you tell that story to everyone."

"Trust me, I do. Tell me about any scars you have."

He examined his body. "I've got a few." He pointed to his ankle. "I have a line on my ankle from a plant."

"A plant gave you a scar?" she asked with wide eyes.

"It wasn't even a magical plant. It was some sharp, fuzzy vine at the creek near my great aunt's house. I was playing around it and it cut my ankle. A faint white line is still there."

He rolled up his pant leg and showed Lenore. She gasped. It was hardly noticeable, but she could not believe a plant could scar people. "You weren't lying."

"No," he laughed. "My other scar is a little cooler. But I can't show you it."

"Why?" she asked.

"It's on my butt."

She laughed. "What?"

"I've actually got two more scars. They're from the same thing and they look pretty much the same. One on my butt and one on my side up here, which is a lot more noticeable," he gestured to his ribs.

"What from?"

"From… the Ministry thing in June," he said.

"Oh," she said quietly. Neville had not told her anything about the event which the newspapers called "The Battle of the Department of Mysteries." Sometimes, she forgot it happened, even though he very obviously never did. "How'd you get them?"

"Basically just falling down a lot," he shrugged. "And being grabbed. I'm just glad they fixed my nose, though. No scars there."

"Yeah," she was all she could say.

"So… have you got any other scars? Beside the pencil attack?"

She smiled, moved her a piece of hair away from her face, and pointed to a tiny round crater near her temple. "I have a chicken pox scar."

"What's chicken pox?" he asked, crinkling his eyebrows.

She squinted. "Do wizards not have chicken pox?"

He looked confused. "Did you hit yourself with a cooking utensil?"

"No," she laughed. "Chicken pox is a disease. Like the flu. Kids get it all the time. It's contagious and spreads from kid to kid, normally in early school years. I got it when I was eight. It just makes little itchy red dots appear all over your skin. You're not supposed to scratch them or they leave scars. I guess I scratched that one."

"I have never heard of that," he said. "Wizards can't get it, you don't think?"

"Oh, I have no idea. I went to a muggle school, so maybe you lot just don't encounter it. My dad never had it, so when my sister and I got it, we were concerned he would catch it. It's dangerous for adults, that's why you want to get it as a kid, because once you get it, you build up immunity and never get it again, in most cases. But my dad didn't catch it from my sister and I, so maybe not. Now, you can make your joke about us disease-ridden half-bloods."

"What?" Neville nearly gasped. "Why would I do that?"

"Oh, shit," she clapped her hand over her mouth. "I forgot who I was talking to."

"Do people really say things like that?"

She slowly let her hands slide from her face. She nodded. "I hear it all the time. Mostly from Slytherins, but I've even overheard Hufflepuffs making fun of muggles before. I try to make the joke before other people do, because it gives me the power, not them."

"That's smart," he said, "but also incredibly depressing."

She smiled sadly. "It doesn't bother me. It's just a part of life."

"It would bother me."

"It takes quite a bit to bother me," Lenore said. "I'm pretty easy-going."

"You mean, you ignore it."

"Okay, Longbottom," she laughed. "Stop psychoanalyzing me."

"Sorry," he grinned. "Alright then, tell me, what is your earliest memory?"

"Ooo, that's a good question." She thought a moment. "My grandma, the witch one, introducing me to her neighbor. I didn't really know my dad's parents very well. My dad was never on the best terms with them. They retired in Wales at the time, while we lived in the States, and they died when I was nine, before we moved here. I met them both only twice, the first time when I was three, I think, maybe barely four. We used the floo network both times, much to my mom's reluctance. My nan noticed her neighbor was outside, so she took me down her driveway to show me off. I remember she wore a hot pink sweatshirt and pink sweatpants. She liked wearing muggle clothes that she found in second-hand shops. Her hands smelled like cigarettes and her curly blonde q-tip hair still had hot rollers in it. That's all. What about you?"

"Mine is about my grandma, too," said Neville. "I was maybe four years old, sitting on her lap as she read _Go, Owl, Go_ to me."

Lenore clutched her heart and gave a faux-pout. "That is so cute. Did she read to you often?"

Neville nodded. "She tried to. I used to read quite a bit as a child, because I had no siblings or cousins my age. There was nothing much else to do."

"I used to read a lot too. What was your favorite book?"

"It was a muggle book, actually. _Bridge to Terabithia_."

"STOP," shouted Lenore. She turned her body to face him head on. "That was my favorite book, too!"

"No! Was it really?"

"Yes! For a long while, at least. Oh my god, tell me you sobbed your eyes out."

"I did. Merlin, was it depressing. But I loved it. Why was it your favorite?"

"I'm not sure I can give you one reason. That year in school, we read a ton of books about death. In one, a teenager drowned. Another book, a boy died of a bee sting. It was like the year they decided to introduce us to death. I remember that book being my favorite, because the boy struggled with losing his friend. It felt real. And it was well-written and magical. Why did you like it?"

"Basically the same reasons— it felt real."

"It feels even more real now that I've had a friend die," Lenore said quietly. "When I was a kid, it was all abstract to be dealing with those issues. But now I know."

Neville nodded. "I read it right before my granddad died and then I reread it after. You're right, it's different."

Lenore bit her lip and nodded understandingly. She returned to her spot next to him, but she sat even closer this time, so that their shoulders touched. "Tell me about your childhood," she said, staring out to the shimmering water on the lake.

"What about it?"

"What was it like growing up with Augusta?"

Neville smiled. "It was strict. And kind of lonely, you know? It was just me and her a lot of the time. But it could also be fun. She taught me a lot, gave me a good education, bought me books, played games with me, she really tried to be the best grandmother she could be. When I got older, she got stricter. I think it was because I wasn't acting like my dad, so she didn't know what to expect."

"What was your dad like?"

"He was popular, as far as I know," Neville said. "He was Head Boy, the teachers loved him, he was well-known in the Order. He was fairly outgoing and friendly. My mum was a bit more shy, but adults tell me she was the kindest person they ever met. Gran told me she used to think mum wasn't good enough for dad, until one day she stood up to Gran."

"What did she do?"

"My mum naturally had long blonde curly hair. When she entered the auror program, she cut it really short, like… You know Kadence Atkins' hair?"

Lenore nodded. "A pixie cut."

"Yeah," he said. "Oh wait, you've seen the photo in my room. Well, she cut her hair like that right before the wedding and dyed it dark brown. Gran went off on her about how it would ruin the wedding photos and how her hair looked 'unfeminine' and my mum basically told her to fuck off. And ever since then, my grandma liked her."

"What?" Lenore laughed.

"Gran likes people who stand up for what they believe in. She can't stand passive people who let others step on them. That's why we clash sometimes, because I don't want to fight every bloke who says something stupid."

"How long did your parents date before they got married?"

"Gran said they were both sixteen, but she thinks they dated before that and hid it from her."

Lenore laughed.

"I've seen photos of them together in the attic, and I would say they probably started dating around fourteen."

"Oh wow," said Lenore. "That's a long time, especially at our age."

"It might have been off and on," Neville shrugged. "I have no idea. How did your parents meet?"

"At a museum. It was all very posh, which is funny, because they definitely aren't. They both really love history and my mom noticed my dad admiring some exhibit. She walked up to him and starting telling him all about the piece, and he just nodded and let her explain. They walked around the museum together and he let her talk pretty much the entire time, he would just ask questions. He asked her to go to the pub with him afterwards, where she finally found out he has a doctorate in history and taught at a university. He was just being nice by pretending he did not know. She was so embarrassed she thought he would never speak to her again, but they got married two years later."

"That's a good story," Neville said. "It sounds like something you would do."

Lenore laughed. "It does, doesn't it? I don't think I act like either of my parents though. They are both this weird combination of shy and loud. Like, when they're talking one and one to a stranger, they're reserved. But then you bring them out in public and my mom has no qualms about screaming across Safeway when my sister isn't walking fast enough. They're quiet, but once you get to know them they say the craziest shit."

"Definitely sounds like you."

She smiled and nudged his shoulder. The sun was setting over the lake, illuminating the entire valley a bright burnt orange and glowing pink. The water lapped against the rocky grey shore. "The lake is so pretty," Lenore sighed.

She laid her head on his shoulder. He adjusted his body so she would be more comfortable, which made her smile.

"The lake isn't the only thing here that's pretty," Neville whispered in her ear.

Her stomach flipped. She inched her fingers closer to his arm and touched the inside of his elbow.

"The trees are also nice."

Lenore could feel him silently shaking with laughter. She sat up and glared at him. "You arsehole," she said, as a huge grin illuminated her face.

He began laughing out loud. "I haven't finished the list."

"No?"

"No. I'm starting at the bottom. The lake, then the trees, and firstly, you."

She shook her head and smiled. "Damn, that was smooth."

"I'm a bit surprised myself."

She laid her head against him once more. He kissed the top of her hair, then rested his head on hers. They sat in silence for a few minutes until the sun fell behind the lake and only dusk remained. Lenore closed her eyes.

The chill of night set over the air around them.

"Should we be going back now?" Lenore asked.

"Yeah," Neville said. He was sorry to be leaving. He loved talking to Lenore. The way she looked at him while he spoke was like nothing he had ever experienced. Her eyes seemed to watch every word that formed in his brain. It was a look of true interest, rather than mild apathy. She listened to him, rather than using her own silence to think of her next story. Neville always felt nervous talking to her, but it was not the same sort of nervousness he felt talking to other people. Rather than being scared he would say something stupid, he only struggled with stammering. He hoped it would go away as soon as he got more comfortable around her.

Lenore held onto his arm again as they made their way though the thick pine forest. It was significantly darker and more eerie than their first time through. When they reached the clearing, Neville could feel Lenore shaking against his arm.

"Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine," she said through chattering teeth.

"Are you cold?"

"I-I'm fine," she repeated. "We'll be at the castle soon."

Neville stopped walking and took off his jacket. The brisk air attacked his body where heat once was.

"Take this," he said, wrapping his coat around Lenore.

"N-no, then you'll be cold."

"I have a jumper and plaid on. You only have the plaid. This makes us even."

"Are you sure?"

Neville placed the coat on her shoulders. Lenore slipped her arms into the holes. "T-thanks."

Her arm intertwined with his again and led her to the bottom of the huge grassy hill. To their right, a large field full of white and pink flowers shivered in the cool wind. Lenore stopped walking.

"L-look how pretty," she said, her teeth still vibrating.

"They really are."

"Do you know what kind of flowers they are?"

Neville squinted. Lenore let go of him as he inched closer to the wild plants. He bent down to examine the flower. "The pink ones are _Dactylorhiza fuchsii_ , commonly called a spotted-orchid, and the whitish-green ones are _Spiranthes romanzoffiana,_ or Irish lady's-tresses, both native to Scotland."

"Holy hell," she said, with wide eyes.

Neville blushed, suddenly aware he should have been more low-key with the information. "I-I learned that in the book you got me."

"You sit there and memorize the flowers?"

He nodded, still a bit embarrassed. "Kind of. I try to learn them."

Lenore smiled. "Is it strange that I think that's hot?"

"Y-yes, probably," his cheeks flushed even more than before. "I don't know anybody who has 'flora knowledge' high on their list of attractive things."

"Not the flower part, specifically," she said. "The knowledge. You know so many facts."

Neville smiled. "T-thanks. I-it really isn't a lot."

"Tell me more about these flowers, if you remember anything."

"Both… both flowers grow in wet, marshy areas. You can see it get wetter over there," he pointed towards the other end of the patch of flowers. "The lady tresses are rare. Many of them have been killed by muggle pesticides and chemicals. The orchid is extremely common all over the UK. Both are them flower in late summer, so they are about to die."

"Aww," Lenore said.

He plucked a single flower from the dirt.

"Neville!" Lenore halted him. "What are you doing? You're killing them faster!"

"They don't have to die," Neville glanced down at the flora. "I'll put them in a pot and grow their roots and make them always bloom."

"Like those roses you gave me?"

He nodded.

"Wow. That's so cool."

He smiled and continued selecting flowers. "I wouldn't think you would be concerned about dying flowers."

"Well, you gave that impassioned speech about them, and I just wondered if you were concerned about them."

"You know you care," he said wryly.

She smiled. He could always see through her guarded act. "Maybe I do. But you said the Irish ones are rare, why are you plunking them?"

Neville removed his wand and with a quick wave and a whispered spell, the population of the white-green flowers nearly doubled.

"Oh my god," breathed Lenore. "I didn't know you were this… skilled!"

"T-thank you. I'm really not."

"Hush. You are."

Neville stepped over a puddle of muddy water and held out the flowers to Lenore. She glanced up at him. "These are for me?"

He nodded and gave her a questioning look.

"I thought they were for your personal collection or something."

"N-no. But if you don't want them o-or you have enough flowers, I-I can keep them."

"No," she took the flowers from his hand with a grin. "I'll never have enough flowers. This is so sweet."

Neville wished he could stop blushing. "I'll put them in a pot for you when we get back to the castle."

"That would be great."

The pair reached the castle just before night fully arrived. Neville led her to the Herbology greenhouses, placed the flowers in a ceramic pot, said a few spells, and the flowers sprung to life. Lenore gasped. "They look even better than they did outside."

He handed her the pot.

"I'll keep it on my dresser," she said, staring at him so wonderfully. "Merlin, if we keep this up, I'm not going to have a spare inch of my room not covered in flowers."

Neville asked if he could walk Lenore to her house and she enthusiastically agreed. This night could not have been more perfect. He had fun and guessed Lenore did, as well. The more he learned about her, the more he grew to appreciate her. As they walked, she said, "This is so weird."

"What?"

"We just went on a date."

Neville looked over to see Lenore's amused face. "Yeah," he smiled. "It's wild."

"I had a great time tonight," she replied.

"I did, too," Neville said.

"Let's do it again."

"Next Friday?"

"Friday works."

They arrived at the Slytherin Dungeon. Lenore led Neville to a small crevice of the castle down the hall from the dungeons. They could not be seen unless someone was really looking.

"Thank you," she said.

"F-for what?"

"For taking me out to see that beautiful place. For being a fun date and good company."

Neville noticed that Lenore's eyes kept flickering from his eyes to his lips. God, how he wanted to kiss her. Her lips beckoned his entire soul towards her. She looked bloody gorgeous tonight, as always. He considered leaning in and separating the distance between them, but a small voice in the back of his head stopped him. What if he was misinterpreting the signs? He finally decided to ask.

"W-when you do that glancing thing, between my eyes and lips, d-does that mean you want me to kiss you?"

She laughed and blushed a bit. His stomach twisted itself into a knot at the sight of her flushed cheeks. "Yeah."

"O-okay," he stammered.

Lenore set her potted plant on the ground next to her. "Are you going to kiss me gently or is my tongue going down your throat again?"

Neville flushed red and she stood up. "W-whichever one you want."

She beamed. "Softly."

"I-I can do that."

He stepped closer and traced her jaw, until his fingers intertwined with the hair on the back of her head. The briefest moment of hesitation passed between them as he stared into her sparkling eyes. She was so beautiful that it made his heart physically hurt. He closed the distance between them and kissed her timidly. Lenore placed her hands on his chest, clinging to the front zipper of his jumper. She deepened the kiss and took control. Neville noticed that, generally, whoever's bottom lip was being sucked was the submissive one. She kissed him over and over, her smooth lips capturing his and releasing for a brief moment, before taking his skin again. She kissed more delicately than he did, or maybe "delicately" was not the word. Maybe she simply kissed like she had all the time in the word, unlike him, who always felt rushed to kiss her before she undoubtedly pulled away and never spoke to him again. He needed to stop worrying. Her fingers absent-mindedly played with his jumper zipper, bringing it up and down a centimeter. His body relaxed a little when she stopped moving her hands.

Finally, she leaned away. When her eyes caught sight of Neville's face, she gasped.

"What?" he asked quickly. Oh god, now here came the never speaking to him again part.

"Nothing," she said with a smile. "Shit. I knew I put on too much lipstick."

"Why?" Neville asked.

She giggled and pulled a compact mirror out of her small purse. She opened it and handed it to Neville, who examined his face. His lips and the surrounding area were covered in a light coating of deep red lipstick. He laughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"Sorry," she said. "I must've forgotten to blot it with a tissue. I never wear red, I just thought it went better with my outfit."

"I don't mind," he smiled. "And it looks good on you."

"It looks better on you," she said.

"No way," he wiped his face again. "Nobody could ever wear it as great as you."

She sent him a grateful smile, slipped off his coat, and handed it to him.

"Merlin, your hands are cold," Neville said as he took the coat from her. "Are you sure you don't need this?"

"I told you, I'll be fine," she said. "Thank you for being so nice."

On a whim, Neville took both her hands and held them in his. He rubbed them between his hands to warm them up.

She bit her lip to stop from smiling. "I don't understand why it's so cold out this early. This winter is going to be terrible."

"Maybe it's just a one day thing," he said. "Like a cold front or something."

"It is supposed to rain tomorrow, I heard."

"Yuck."

"You don't like rain?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

"I absolutely love it."

"You have the weirdest tastes," he said.

"Well, I did go on a date with you."

Neville's mouth dropped open and he let out an amused sigh as Lenore positively doubled-over laughing, crippled by her own quip. Neville chuckled nervously along with her, admiring her cleverness. She removed her hands from his and took him in a hug.

"Only kidding," she said in between giggles. "Thank you for tonight."

"No, thank you," he said.

She pulled away and Neville grabbed her hand one more time. He placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

"Is this 1798?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "Goodnight."

She laughed. "Goodnight."


	26. Chapter 26: Let's Talk About Sex Baby

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, including Fluentin Bullshit, thewhimsicalwalrus, xxxBeautifulxxxDreamerxxx, LooseFure, and all the guests! And thank you to all the new followers! I appreciate you all!**

"I don't know why I have to wear this… bloody… tie!" Dean shouted as he ripped yet another imperfect knot off his collar.

Neville, who was staring at himself in the same bathroom mirror, shifted his gaze to Dean. "What? Why are you wearing a tie?"

"Ginny told me to," he grumbled as he yanked the silky green material over his head once again. "I don't understand why. We're going to the bloody Great Hall for this date, not the fucking Yule Ball in Paris."

Neville peered down at his own outfit and panicked. "Should I be wearing a tie?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "All I know is the bloody things seem to make birds happy."

Neville tapped at his collar. Suddenly, the spot seemed barren without a necktie to complete his dress shirt. He left Dean alone, fiddling his tie into a knot, and flung open the trunk in front of his bed. He dug and dug until he came up with three neckties. He hurried back to Dean, who finally managed a semi-decent dimple in his knot.

"Mate, which one?" asked Neville, as he held up the three designs. One tie was purple and blue striped, while another featured blue swordfish over a navy background. The third option was a plain red bowtie.

Dean stuck his nose in the air. "None of them."

Neville examined his choices. "What's wrong with them?"

"They are hideous!"

"What about yours? It's lime green!"

Dean groaned. "I fucking know. Ginny picked it out specifically. Chartreuse does not match my eye color at all. It doesn't match anyone's anything, actually, it's just ugly."

"And you're wearing grey trousers? Are you wearing a suit?"

Dean clenched his jaw. "Yes."

Neville surveyed his own attire. "I guess just the tie is enough. Oh blimey, I don't know what to wear."

"Neville!" Dean assured him. "Relax. Just put on the red bowtie if you want and be done with it."

Neville threw the other two ties down on the bathroom counter and hurried to knot the bow around his neck. "I look goofy."

"You look fine! You're going to be late, aren't you?"

Neville checked his watch and found himself only five minutes away from meeting Lenore. "Oh damn it, I am!"

With one more glance at himself in the mirror, he hurried out of the Gryffindor Tower. He felt like a bloody prat with this bowtie adorning his neck, but if Dean said Lenore would appreciate it, maybe it would be worth it. The tie chaffed his collar as he traipsed down a flight of steps. He wore black dress shoes, black dress trousers, and a long sleeve white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Yes, he was sure he looked like a dork.

He spotted Lenore waiting for him in the courtyard. She looked stunning in an oversized grey jumper, black jeans, and white trainers. Her voluminous hair was parted down the middle and her bangs held back by a clip on either side and her lips were a gorgeous shade of natural pink.

As soon as Lenore's eyes met his, her gaze flickered away and directly onto his bowtie. Her laugh was immediate and loud. "Neville, what is that?"

He glanced down. "A… a tie?"

"Yes!" she laughed in a fit. "But why are you wearing it?"

His hand instinctively flew to his collar and hid the red tie. "I… erm… well… Dean w-was wearing one, a-and I just thought, m-maybe I should, too?"

Her warm demeanor radiated onto him, but did nothing to ease his angst. "No, it looks good! It's just…" she broke into the giggles again. "You look like the Six Flags man."

"The what?"

"Six Flags is an American amusement park, like with roller coasters and games. They had these commercials where a little old man dances to an upbeat song. He's wearing a white shirt, black pants, and a red bowtie, like you are."

Neville began to undo the knot. "O-oh."

She placed a hand over his. "You can leave it on if you want. Sorry, I think it looks good. That's just how I joke."

He smiled. "I-I know. I-I'm still taking it off, though."

"Well… your date is wearing trainers, so maybe it's not the best couple look."

Neville's gaze moved to her face, completely forgetting the tie, and he stared into her amused eyes for a few seconds. "A-a-are we a couple?"

She shrugged. "I mean, let's see how these next few dates go. We're definitely not boyfriend-girlfriend. But I'm not going to date anyone while I'm going on dates with you."

"O-o-okay," he stammered. "I-I'm not either."

"You sure?" she smiled. "You don't want an open relationship?"

"N-no," he shook his head. "You're all I want."

He cringed the second the words exited his mouth. She laughed. "Revealed too much, did you?"

He nodded, breaking eye contact with her.

"It's alright," she said, waving him towards the courtyard exit. "Come on, you ol' softie."

She dragged him out of the castle and towards the new date spot Lenore selected. It was her turn to choose the location, as Neville organized the first date, so she decided to take him to the top of a grassy knoll which gradually dropped off to a sloping cliff. Trees lined the hill and the pair selected one thick trunk at the very top to lean against. After a moment, she changed her position, so that instead of leaning against the tree, she sat cross-legged directly in front of him, blocking his view of the mountains, but he did not mind one bit. "So, how are you today?"

"G-good. O-other than the tie incident."

"That's good," she smiled. "I've had a great day, too. How are Dean and Seamus?"

"S-seamus is good, I think. To be honest, I-I haven't seen much of him lately. He's mates with Terry Boot all of a sudden, so t-they've been spending most of these past two weeks together. A-and Dean's been with Ginny."

"So… have you been lonely?"

"I-I don't know about that. I still eat with them."

"Good." She pulled her knees closer to her body and hugged them. "Minus Dean and Seamus, have you… you know… have you got any good mates?"

Neville furrowed his brow. "I-I mean… Dean. Seamus. Sometimes Terry. Luna. Ginny. You. I talk to a few more people, obviously, but I'd say those are my best mates."

Lenore nodded, but she looked pensive.

"Y-you've got a ton of friends, don't you?"

"I don't know about a ton…"

"I bet you could name at least ten right now."

"I could probably name twenty good friends, honestly," she said, before making an awkward clicking noise with her tongue. "But that's just because people always tell me things. I think I look friendly, so people just come up to me and start talking. And I know how to answer without sounding like a complete tosser. I also think it's different with girls. Women's friendships seem to be deeper, more emotionally invested, so we kind of create a support system for ourselves. I would hate to be a man. I think it would be really isolated. Did you notice most of your friends are girls?"

"Y-yeah. I think girls tend to be nicer. Or more understanding. I think boys are in constant competition. And I don't want to be in competition."

"Girls are in competition, too, it's just not as obvious. Girls are taught to always be in competition for the attention of a man, but when you get to be around seventeen or eighteen, girls tend to stop that and we realize how dumb it is. But I don't think boys ever stop being in competition with each other."

Neville shook his head and stared at her. "Lenore, you're so smart. I don't understand how you notice these things and put them into words."

"Thanks!" she smiled. "I think you're a detail-oriented type of guy and I'm more big picture. You notice fine points and I notice patterns."

"I think that's right."

"Alright, so how was your day? What did you do?"

As he recalled the previous twelve hours, he realized that he had not taken his eyes off her this entire evening. She looked absolutely stunning today. Her long, dark hair fell in smooth waves over her shoulders and her makeup was done incredibly well. Neville was always in awe of her makeup abilities. He had seen her san-makeup plenty of times, as she did not wear it every day, and she was gorgeous either way, but whatever she did tonight took his breath away. Maybe it was not the makeup, he reconsidered. Maybe it was the glimmer of playfulness in her eyes. She was in a good mood today, he could tell. He noticed that she smiled more today than the past couple days, probably due to stress from schoolwork.

Neville ranted on about his test in Herbology, which was mostly a review from their fifth year, then asked her about her Alchemy test.

She groaned. "Neville, I failed."

"You got your grade back already?" he asked with wide eyes.

"No, but I know I did."

"Oh, you don't know that," he waved her off.

"I do," she sighed. "There's no way I didn't. I don't understand any of it. It's actually stressing me out, like a lot."

"Really?"

She nodded with a slight pout. "I practiced writing so many essays last night that my hand cramped up all while I was writing out the actual test. It still hurts like hell."

Neville's eyes peeked from her face to her hand. On a whim, he grabbed her hand and began massaging her knuckles. He remained silent, fearing anything he would have to say would embarrass himself. His cheeks already burned with extra blood flow.

"Nev?" she laughed, after a moment of shock. "I'm right handed."

He dropped her limb as soon as it clicked in his brain that he was holding her left hand. "Oh. Shit. I-I wasn't thinking. Merlin, I'm dumb."

She placed her right hand over his. "Well, don't back down on the offer now, Longbottom. You've committed."

His flipped his hand over and dug his fingers gently into her knuckles. "I-i-it hurts here?"

"A little lower."

She was having a grand old time laughing at his expense, but he knew she was not laughing at him. He should have laughed along with her. Finally, he cracked a smile. "That goes on the list of most embarrassing things I've done in front of you."

Her head tilted. "That wasn't embarrassing, was it? I think we have different definitions of the word. A lot of what you find humiliating is hilarious to me. I think it's better to to laugh at embarrassing things than to feel embarrassed."

"Y-you're right."

She smiled at him. "Also, you're not dumb."

"What?"

"Dumb. You called yourself dumb. You're not."

He searched his brain and recalled he did use that word. The expression did not even register on his conscience anymore. "O-oh. Thanks."

"No, thank you for the hand massage. It feels loads better already."

"N-no problem."

He continued to stroke his fingers into her skin. Silence fell over them, but it was unlike any silence Neville had ever felt. The absence of sound was comforting, rather than awkward. He did not feel the need to speak to break the quiet and by the complacent look on her face, Lenore did not either. Both sat in content silence until Lenore looked up from his hand to his face.

She opened her mouth once, then closed it. He met her eyes and she exhaled a nervous laugh. "Sorry… I was going to say something but I chickened out."

"What were you going to say?"

"I also didn't want to ruin the quiet. I was just going to say…" She shook her head. "Nev, you're so nice."

"That's what you were scared to say?"

"No… I wanted to say how cute you are."

His heart gave one violent beat so powerful he thought he could feel it on his ribs. "W-what?"

Her cheeks flushed. "You're cute."

His motions on her hand halted. "L-l-like in a good way?"

"What would be a bad way?" she laughed.

"I-I don't know."

"Yes, a good way. Come here."

She gestured towards her face with a finger on her free hand. Neville could feel his entire body throb with nerves, but especially the area below his ribs. He leaned in towards her and she kissed him.

Once she pulled away, he said, "Y-y-you're kissing me an awful lot."

"Is… is that a problem?"

"Not at all."

"We haven't kissed in a week. I don't think that's a lot."

"Has it really been a week?" he searched his mind. "Merlin, it has. It felt like yesterday."

"Yeah," she smiled. "We act like friends until we're alone. I like that."

"Are… are we not acting like friends now?"

She raised her brow. "Do you massage all your friend's hands?"

"No."

"Then no, not exactly."

"Alright," he smiled. He watched her excited eyes take in his face. "You seem to be in a good mood today."

"I am," she laughed.

"Why?"

"Well… for one I'm done with that stupid Alchemy chapter. The next one should be easier. For another, I made plans with Katie and Alicia and Leanne to go to the fireworks show tomorrow. And also I was excited to see you tonight."

"Really?" he raised his brow.

"Noo," she deadpanned, "I've been dreading it. I can't stand you."

He played along. "That won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because… I can stand you."

"You can stand me?" she mocked.

He had no idea how to complete this exchange. "It doesn't make sense… but neither does us together."

"Wait," she said as her grin disappeared. "Why?"

"Er— you're a Slytherin. I'm a Gryffindor. You've got tons of friends, I've only got a few. You're fit, I'm… just me—" She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued. "—You're loud, I'm quiet. You're outspoken, I'm shy. We're just different. But it's okay because I like different."

"We're more similar than you think," she said after a moment.

"How?"

"We value the same qualities in people. Kindness. Humor. Nerve. I think if you have the same values, it really doesn't matter if you don't have the same personalities. It's probably better that way."

Slowly, he nodded. "Wow. You're right."

"Yeah! I think so, at least. I like us having different personalities. I like being the loud one. And I like you being the shy one. But we also switch. I'm not incredibly talkative, I'm just not scared to talk to people. And you're not shy, you're just a selective sharer. And sometimes you're more talkative than me."

"I agree. I like that."

She smiled. "And we're both fit."

"I… I don't know about that. Sure, I guess."

"You're fit," she played as she scooted closer to him.

"T-thanks."

She was now on his right side, only a few centimeters from touching his shoulder. "If you weren't fit, I wouldn't want to kiss you."

Before he had time to stammer out a response, her lips met his. She brought a hand up to his jaw as he placed a hand on her back. Something about her demeanor excited him and he had the nerve to drag her closer to him. Her smile broke their kisses, but she quickly adjusted her face as her tongue surprised his bottom lip. She had done that before, but never with this amount of passion. She pulled away for a second. "You know I've never kissed your neck?"

He opened and closed his mouth in awe of her. "N-nothing's stopping you."

She laughed rather loudly, "This bowtie kind of is."

Neville's hand shifted from her hips to his neck, where he undid the knot. Lenore unbuttoned the first two buttons of his collar, which made him gulp. She smiled at him then kissed his lips.

His stomach flipped as she gradually moved down his jaw. Her warm breath washed over his skin like a refreshing glass of hot apple cider on a crisp autumn day. The moment she touched her lips to the crook of his neck, he drew a quiet gasp. Her lips trailed his neck as he bit his cheeks to stop himself from making any more sounds.

"Neville," she said against his neck, "you're not making any noise. You've got to tell me where I should focus on."

"A-a-anywhere," he hummed.

She sucked on a spot near his collarbone. "Here?"

All he could do was whimper. She moved up to his artery. "Here?"

"Y-yes. O-o-or actually… maybe closer to my ear?"

She moved her lips to the side of his head and kissed roughly two centimeters below his ear.

"Yes," he exhaled softly. "There, please."

He could feel her smile before she went to work intermittently sucking, biting, and kissing his skin. Oh Merlin, he had waited forever for a moment like this. The sensations overtook his brain and he could think of nothing except her warm lips on his neck. His arm wound its way to the back of her head and he gently cradled her hair. He spent his time attempting to memorize exactly how this sensation felt, but he had difficulty putting it into easy-to-remember words. She had moved her hand from his jaw to the back of his neck, and he could feel every one of her fingers press into him. He leaned his head back to give her better access across his body. They were sat in an odd position, with her body on his right, but she kissed under his left ear. Before Neville knew anything was happening, her right knee swung over his thighs. She straddled his legs and continued kissing him from a better access point.

Neville could not stop himself from freaking out. Lenore's knees applied pressure to his thighs. Didn't she want to take things slow? Hovering over his lap was not his definition of "slow." He felt himself grow sick with nervousness. Her bum touched his bent thighs. Oh Merlin, he could not handle her on top of him. He needed to say something before she did something to send him over the edge of rationality.

"L-l-len?"

She leaned away. "What?"

He glanced down at her body and he knew a look of fear appeared on his face. "Y-y-you're in my lap."

A pause followed before she examined the situation. "Damn it. Sorry."

As she slid away from him, he was able to say, "N-n-no, y-you can be there, I-I just… wow."

"No, you're right. We were supposed to be taking things slow." She fully climbed off of him and sighed. "I don't know how we both keep getting carried away."

He bit his lip. His body felt an absence without her near him. "B-because of the novelty of it. The newness."

She nodded. Silence filled the void between them as Neville's heart calmed its wild beat. After a moment, she laughed. "You know what Blair said a long time ago?"

"What?"

"Way back in April, she told me there was a ton of sexual tension between us."

The color drained from his face. "W-w-what?"

Her cheeks burned red. "Yeah. I don't know why I'm telling you this, I just think it's funny. She told me to 'pity fuck' you to get it out of the way."

Lenore was laughing, but he sure as hell was not. Just the idea of Lenore's roommates speculating about his life was enough to give him mild anxiety and now here Lenore was, discussing such intimate subjects. "S-she said that? I-in April?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Way back in… either late April or early May. We were all sitting out in the hallway while Circe… well she and Blaise were in the room. All my roommates thought you fancied me, but I denied it. I guess I was wrong."

"Oh Merlin," he exhaled. "I bet Pansy had a field day."

"You remember back at the party before O.W.L.s when we went up to your room to study Herbology? And she was worried about us doing something? She based that off of our conversation in the hallway. We were playing the Sex Numbers game, where you add up points for doing stuff with blokes. I had the lowest score, so they were trying to find somebody for me to get points with, you know? Blair's the one who was convinced there was something between us. Actually… it was Pansy, not Blair, who called it, 'pity fucking.'"

"O-of course she did."

She smiled. "I defended you, don't worry."

"Oh god," he buried his face in his hands, "and they said something you had to defend me from."

"It's fine," she laughed. "They aren't mean to you, I promise. Well, except Pansy, but you already knew that."

"I just… I can't believe they would even suggest that."

"Come on," she rolled her eyes, "don't you and your mates joke about stuff like that?"

"K-kind of. W-when I told Dean about us, h-he made a joke— never mind."

"No, about what?"

Words did not come easily to his brain. "About how… I can't… I wouldn't… Lenore, I can't even say it, it's so embarrassing. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Alright," she laughed. "Calm down. You don't have to tell me. But if I said the phrase 'pity fuck' around you, you don't have to worry about saying anything even remotely as embarrassing."

"HejokedabouthowIwouldfinishthesecondyoutouchedme."

He spoke so fast that he knew Lenore had trouble keeping up. After a couple seconds of biting silence, she laughed. "Well… it's probably true."

"Yeah," he cringed.

"That's okay, though. I don't expect us to do anything like that for a while. You'll have plenty of time to get used to me."

His cheeks burned bright red and he could feel their heat all the way to his eyeballs. He had no idea what to say, so he was glad she spoke up.

"Neville," she said slowly, "while we're on the subject. I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, because sometimes… I think I give off the impression of wanting to move quickly, but I don't. Can I be honest with you?"

He nodded. Or maybe his head simply shook with nerves. Either way, she continued.

"I don't want to have sex until I'm older. I know everybody our age sleeps together pretty soon, but I just… I can't. I'll do other stuff. We can snog as much as we want and down the road, I'm definitely open to… you know hands and mouths, but actual sex? I can't right now. Give me time. Maybe a year, give or take a some months. I just can't even imagine having sex until I'm in a serious, long-term commitment. I personally think it's dumb when people wait for marriage or engagement or things like that, but we're so young, and I think relationships end up better when you wait a little while."

Neville gazed at her with wide eyes for quite a long time. He could not believe she was talking so plainly about sex, especially sex with him. He had rarely given the subject a thought since they had began flirting. It was too much, too scary to even consider. Her, naked, underneath him— he needed to stop. Oh god, now he was thinking about it. He clasped his hands to stop them from shaking.

"I-I-I completely understand, Len. I d-don't want to rush into things either. I-I totally respect your wishes, b-because they're mine, too."

"Thanks," she said, looking down at her knees. "I-I just didn't want to disappoint you later on down the road."

"No, Lenore," he said quickly, "you could never disappoint me. I don't want you to think I expect any of that stuff from you, because I don't. I love just talking to you— just being around you. You are so smart, Len, and funny and kind. You are so much more to me than you know."

"Thanks, Nev," she smiled. "You are, too."

He placed his hands against his cheeks and took a few deep breaths. "Oh Merlin. We just discussed sex."

She laughed. "Yeah? What's wrong with that?"

"Lenore…" he slowly raised his head to look her in the eye. "I've fancied you for so long. I never, ever, in a million years thought I would ever actually get to kiss you, much less date you. I'd wait forever if you asked me to. Sorry, that's probably too much. Shit, that's definitely too much, especially for a second date. I just… I really like you. And I want you know how much you mean to me."

Her eyes softened considerably from their previous anxious state. "I really like you, too," she smiled.

Her smile met his lips and he felt his heart practically burst.

"L-l-len?" he stammered violently as she scooted closer to him. "I-i-if you want, you can be on my lap, I really don't mind. I promise you, I won't do anything you don't want me to. I-if you don't, that's okay, too. Just… do what makes you the most comfortable."

She glanced over his body. "It wouldn't bother you to have me on you?"

"N-n-no. I want you…"

Suddenly his mind drew a blank. He could not think of a single word in the English language. Oh god, he could not remember how to speak. No words would complete his sentence. He could not end his statement there, it would be so weird. He begged his brain to come up with a word, any words to fill the gapping hole of silence.

"… to…"

"Are you alright?" she laughed. "You look like your brain broke in half."

"S-sorry. I-I'm fine. I'm just so damn nervous all the time."

"That's the sexual tension Blair was talking about," she giggled.

He cringed. "I-I-I definitely don't think I could… I-I'm just saying… It would be really awful sex."

"I think once you got over your nerves, it would be good."

His face blanketed white. "A-a-as long as I didn't vomit on you."

A laugh echoed over her lips. She kissed him once more, her smile covering his over and over. She swung a knee over his legs and he immediately tensed up. "Don't be nervous," she whispered in his ear. Her lips brushed his earlobe and he shuddered, which made her smile. "You've imagined me kissing you before, haven't you? Like before we even started dating?"

He nodded, but quickly stopped when he realized what exactly he was admitting to. She rested her cheek on his.

"Alright," he felt her playful breath wash over his skin. "Pretend it's not me. Pretend I'm the me in your brain. Show me what you do in your brain."

He hesitated as she kissed his jaw. "Come on," she whispered again. "This isn't real. This is in your head. You're falling asleep in your own bed and the image of us together blinks across your brain. You're leaned up against a tree and I'm in your lap. How are you kissing me?"

He tightened his grip on her back and took her lips in his. After a short smile from her, he deepened their contact. His arm ran vertically up her back and he grasped the back of her head, intertwining his fingers in her hair and massaging her scalp. He desperately tried to keep his breath steady as she returned his passion. Gradually, he slowed down, savoring the moment rather than hurrying it along.

"Neville," she murmured, "is this all you do to me in your head?"

He grew braver with his movements and his tongue traced her bottom lip, like she had done to him just a few moments ago. She shivered under his touch. Her tongue found its way into his mouth and he refrained from whimpering. Neville had never french-kissed anyone before, but his instincts seemed to kick in as he reciprocated the motion. He always imagined kissing like this would be vaguely gross. It seemed quite unhygienic and even awkward, but with Lenore at the helm, he realized just how wonderful it was. The kisses felt deeper, more complete, with tongue. It was not gross at all, in fact, her mouth tasted slightly minty. His mouth. Oh god, he did not even think about his own breath. He had brushed his teeth before the date, but he worried that was not enough. She must have used mouthwash or a freshening spell on her own mouth. She did not seem to notice anything amiss, so he came to the conclusion that his breath must be adequate.

Her body leaned into his, breaking him out of his thoughts. She rested her lower stomach on his and moved her hands up his neck to cup his face. God, did she feel amazing. Her body moved over him, which excited him at first, until he realized she was shifting in discomfort.

"Len," he attempted to say with her tongue in his mouth.

She pulled her lips a mere centimeter away from his. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just… my knees hurt."

"Oh." He finally opened his eyes and found her staring down at his lips. "W-we can change positions," he offered. "Or you can sit down."

Her eyes flickered to his. "What, on your lap?"

He instantly panicked. "I-I-I meant the ground, b-but y-yeah, either one is fine."

She leaned away and examined him. "I think I would crush your legs."

"What?" he said with slight shock. "No, definitely not."

She continued to look over the situation. "Sorry. Former fat girl complex."

He did not find it as funny as she did. "W-whatever you want, I'll do it."

Gradually, she rested against his bent knees. "I'm going to sit now," she said. "If it hurts, tell me to get off, okay? Really, I won't be offended."

"G-go ahead."

She attempted to gauge his reaction as she sat between his stomach and knees, but he kept a neutral, yet encouraging, face. She adjusted her legs so her knees bent the other direction and her feet rested on the ground. The entire time she moved herself, Neville stared at her.

She was positively gorgeous and so, so close to him. Her smooth, dark hair was mesmerizing, the way it softly fell down her shoulders before she flicked it away from her face. And her face. Merlin above, she was the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on— from her slightly pointed nose, to the curve of her cupid's bow, to the way her eyes lit up when she looked at him.

"Lenore," he whispered, "you are so beautiful."

Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a wide smile. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No," he kissed her once more. "Not at all."

"I'm not… crushing anything important, am I?" she raised an eyebrow.

He glanced down and realized at once what she was talking about. Given his position, she sat directly in the V-shape formed by his stomach and thighs. She was right on top of his pelvis, but however they were arranged, with his legs slightly open, she was not actually touching anything "important," as she put it. "Y-y-you're fine."

Her thumbs gently brushed his cheekbones as she kissed him. After a few minutes, she leaned away to squeal quietly.

"What?" he asked.

She smiled and rested her forehead against his. "You called me beautiful. I can't get over it."

He smiled as his stomach twisted. "Y-yeah. Well…you are."

She kissed the tip of his nose, which surprised him. Her hands slid from his jaw to rest on his shoulders. "Do you realize that exactly two weeks ago, you were terrified to kiss me and now here I am in your lap?"

"Trust me," he exhaled. "I realize."

"If you hadn't stood up to vomit that night, I would have definitely crawled in your lap."

"Y-y-you would've?"

"Yeah, I really wanted to, but you didn't make a move, so I figured you were too scared to do anything like that right then."

"I-I-I was," he stammered. "Merlin, you would've given me a heart attack."

She giggled. "I bet. But that's okay. I really like being this close to you. I'm not hurting you, am I? You've still got feeling in your legs?"

"Yes, Len," he smiled. "I barely feel you, I swear."

They shared a languid kiss, until she pulled away to grin and say, "Alright, I think that's enough for now. Before we get carried away."

He nodded in agreement as she started to climb off of him. With all his courage, he held tight to her lower back. "Wait."

She paused and looked at him. "What?"

He lost his nerve. "Never mind. Go ahead."

A smile crept across her face. She laid her head in the crook of his neck and kissed his skin, which was perhaps the greatest feeling Neville had ever experienced. "Tell me," she murmured.

He cringed. "I… um… I-if you want to stay close to me, I-I wouldn't mind."

"Are you asking me to stay on your lap?"

"I-i-if you want to."

She craned her neck to kiss his jaw, then laid her face back on his shoulder. Her arms snaked around to his back. "I guess I can," she said, much louder than before.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. Merlin, did he like being this close to her. Their body heat intertwined and her lips just barely brushed his skin. He could feel every breath she took, until she leaned away to laugh. "Okay, we need to have a normal conversation. We need to normalize this."

"What?"

"This needs to be normal for us. Like you said, this can't be a novelty, or it'll just makes both of us anxious. Start talking."

"W-what about?"

She settled back into his legs, as if reclining in an armchair. "Hmm… how about you tell me your romantic history?"

"I, um, I don't think I have one."

"Have you kissed anyone other than me?"

Genuine offense spread across his face. "Yes! I'm not a complete loser."

"Alright, sure, sure."

He smiled with her. "I-I really have. But you go first."

"No," she poked her fingers into his back. "I think you should go first."

He bit his lip and shook his head. Lenore rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. You know why I don't want to have sex for a while? I haven't even had that much experience with kissing. You're only the second guy I've ever snogged."

"Am I really?" his eyes widened. He realized he probably should not have revealed his surprise. It made it sound like he assumed she was a slag.

"Yeah. I've only kissed two guys. Oliver and Blaise."

"Zabini?" he exclaimed. "Gosh, he's a scary bloke."

"Kind of," she nodded. "I don't know. He's never scared me. I think it's because I know he's too cowardly and self-absorbed to ever hurt anyone."

"Did you two date or…?"

"No, we just… Actually, I can't even tell you how it happened. It wasn't one of those games—"

She gasped. "Three. I've kissed three guys. Other than you. I completely forgot that I played Spin the Bottle in my third year. Merlin, I kissed Terence Higgs, too! Oh god, I didn't even remember until now. He was my first kiss. Here I thought it was Blaise. Does that make me a slag?"

"Not at all," he shook his head and smiled with her.

"Yeah, but back to Blaise. We both just wanted a snog I think. He made a move and I said fuck it and we made out in a broom closet during October of fifth year. You know about all the kisses with the prat. And then Terence was just one kiss during that game. Neither of us paid much mind to each other. In fact, I don't think I've spoken to him since the game. I can't believe I forgot about him. What about you? I've told you my history, how about you tell me yours?"

"M-my history isn't very exciting. At all."

"No?"

"No. I've only kissed two girls. And one of them doesn't even count I don't think. Actually the other one, she probably doesn't even count. I doubt either of them count it."

Lenore gave him a reassuring smile. "Tell me."

"The first person I ever kissed was Hannah Abbott."

"HANNAH?"

Neville flinched at the deafening shrillness in her voice. "You don't like her?"

"I can't stand her. She's much too judgmental for someone who is in no position to judge."

"I-I don't particularly care for her. She's kind of mean. Oh, I probably shouldn't have said that."

Lenore grinned. "That's the first time I've ever heard you talk shit about someone."

"Y-yeah, oops."

"Back to the kiss," she said as she shook his arm.

"It-it was during third year. I was playing Spin the Bottle with some Hufflepuffs. She spun and landed on me, but she wasn't exactly very thrilled. And, when it was over, she made this face… like she was disgusted."

"Aww, Neville," she kissed his lips once more. "Hannah is actually the spawn of Satan. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

Neville grinned a tiny bit. "T-thanks."

"Your other kiss," she tightened her grip on his arm.

"…Ginny Weasley."

"No way! What? But you are still friends. Really good friends."

"Y-yeah. It was an accident. I went to the Yule Ball with her."

"Ohhh yeah, I remember."

"You didn't go to the Yule Ball, did you?" he asked.

"No. My mom wanted me home for Christmas. But it's okay, I kind of wanted to go home at that point in the year."

"I remember now."

"You didn't fancy me back then, did you?" she thought out loud. "No, it would have been just before."

"Y-yeah. A-at the time, I fancied… somebody else."

"Who?"

"…Hermione."

Lenore's eyes widened. "No way."

"Y-yeah," he blushed.

"Why did you stop fancying her?"

"First of all, I didn't fancy her as much or as long as I've fancied you. She… she isn't as much fun or easy-going as you, is she?"

"No," Lenore shook her head. "A million times smarter and braver than me, but definitely not as relaxed."

"I don't think she's smarter than you. I think you're on the same level, you just think differently. You told me a while ago that you never fancied anyone?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You remember that?"

He cringed. "I-I remember everything you tell me that has to do with other blokes."

"Yeah," she grinned, "I don't think I've ever actually fancied anyone, except you. I've found guys attractive. I've had crushes, but they never last more than a couple weeks."

"Like who?"

"You're not the jealous type, are you?" she hesitated.

"No! Sorry, you don't have to tell me. I-I was just curious."

"Alright," she said with a warm smile, "I always thought Kenneth Towler was cute."

"Fred and George's roommate?"

"Yeah. He was cute. But too old for me. I think Ritchie Coote is cute, too. The only thing is, I wouldn't date anyone a year below me. Oh! Ambrose Livingston. He's cute."

"Alright," Neville interrupted her. "I think I get the idea."

She laughed. "Sorry. You can tell I like shy guys, can't you?"

"And Gryffindors. Except Ambrose."

"Yeah," she beamed. "Gryffindors are funny and nice. That's all I look for in friends. Ambrose is a boring Hufflepuff, but he's fit."

Neville nodded. He was not sure what to say. He did not take himself to be the jealous type, but with Lenore going on about these blokes, he felt a twinge of envy.

She giggled and stared at him. "You're looking quite peeved."

"No!" he argued again. "Sorry. I-I-I really… I don't know. It's not my place to tell you who you can find fit."

"No, definitely not," she played. Her voice quieted, but her smile remained. "You're fitter than them all, though."

He felt his heart flutter. "T-thanks."

She smacked his hip lightly. "Back to Ginny! You never told me how you kissed!"

"Yeah," his cheeks flushed. "She… God, this is embarrassing. It was an accident. We went as friends. She meant to kiss me on the cheek goodnight, but both of us shifted and our lips touched for probably less than one second. Does that even count as a kiss?"

Lenore laughed through his entire story. "I'd personally count it, but I need to up my Sex Numbers game points."

"Explain the rules of this game to me."

"One point for kissing, two for snogging, three for hand stuff, four for oral, five for sex or more."

"…What does 'or more' mean?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Anal?"

He cringed and her laugh rang out. "You're so innocent, I love it. Alright, so you can count each person for a different category, but you don't count each separate time you did those things. Like, I get one point for Oliver, not two points for the two fucking times he kissed me. And you get three points for me, because we've snogged and kissed on separate occasions."

He was utterly lost. "Can you help me?"

"Okay, you get one point for Hannah, one for Ginny, one for me, and two for snogging me. Your score is five."

"Alright, now how about you?"

"Let's see, I get two for Blaise, one for Oliver, one for Terence, one for you, and two for you. That's seven. And if I reached into your pants I could make it a nice round ten."

"N-no," he laughed.

"Come on," she played. "You know you want me to."

"Len, I would throw up and pass out."

She laughed. "I know. So would I."

A beat of silence passed between them. Neville thought nothing of it, but Lenore looked uncomfortable. "I— er—" she stammered. "Not that I think you're… ugly down there. I didn't mean I would vomit at the sight of— why the hell am I talking? Oh god, Neville shut me up, please."

He smiled. "I didn't take that the wrong way. Don't worry about it."

She buried her face in her hands. "I need to stop. My brain is so dirty tonight. I've never talked this much about sex ever, not even with my friends, but for some reason I pick our second date to yammer on about it."

"I-I thought you were talking about it quite a bit," he laughed.

"I swear, I'm never like this. I think I just like the idea of having someone like you, who won't judge me, to talk about it with, you know? Except we're not really talking, it's more like I'm saying things to make you uncomfortable and you're just going along with it."

"You really think I'm not judging you right now?" he joked.

She examined his expression, and said, "Are you?"

"No."

"You are, just a little," she grinned.

"Well, it's good judging. I like that you feel like you can say things to me."

"I like that, too. You're going to hear some weird things come out of my mouth that I wouldn't dare have said to you even just a month ago. When I get comfortable around people, I get weird."

"That's alright," he chuckled. "I don't mind."

She smiled. "Alright, I'm going to get off you. I'm sure your legs are asleep by now. I can't feel my arse."

"A-alright."

She moved back to her knees, then sat down beside him, so that their shoulders touched. They looked out over the ridge in silence. Thick grassy knolls dotted the valley. Leaves began their transition to the beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows of Autumn. The sun headed down, past the trees but not yet under the horizon. Not a single noise could be heard from another human being, except Lenore and Neville's quiet exhalations.

"So, what's your upcoming week look like?" she asked.

"Um… Well… I'm not doing much. We've got that test in Defense. So most of my week will probably be spent not annoying Snape."

"Why?" she smiled. "He'd give you a bad grade?"

"Exactly."

"I'm excited to see the look on his face when he figures out we're dating. He doesn't care about the drama of course, but when one of his House is dating a Longbottom…"

"He'll be peeved at me," Neville finished. "Don't talk to me in there until after the test."

She laughed. "Alright. Hey, have you told anyone we're dating?"

"No. Just Dean and Seamus."

"I've told my roommates and Katie and Alicia," she nodded. "Minus Pansy. And I haven't told Margaux."

"You haven't told your sister?"

"No. I don't know why. I just haven't found the time. After everything between her and Dean, I don't want to… I don't know. I don't want my happiness to ruin her right to sulk, you know?"

"That's nice."

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I'll tell her next week. She's on a mission to get Helaine Benson and Dagwood Bukowski together."

Neville nodded. "Maybe tomorrow they can get together at the fireworks show."

"I think that's her plan."

The pair chatted on for a while, until the sun danced down behind the horizon. As they walked back to the castle, Lenore talked excitedly about seeing Fred and George tomorrow when they came to show off their newest product line to honor the wizarding holiday of Boomslang Barron Day. Dumbledore arranged the entire thing in tribute to his favorite sixteen-century magical explorer. Neville argued with her about the facts surrounding Boomslang's namesake, and she grabbed his arm and rattled it when he made her particularly annoyed.

"Len?"

The pair looked up, limbs still attached, at the petite blonde Gryffindor in their path. Margaux stood with a huge smile on her face, the widest Lenore had seen these past two weeks. The elder Henry sister whipped her arm away from Neville. "Hi, Mar!"

Margaux eyed them suspiciously. "Where did you two just come from?"

"We, uh, we were out with Seamus and Katie."

Margaux's eyes started at their feet and ended on their faces. "You two were snogging, weren't you?"

A small choking noise escaped Neville's throat, but a smile illuminated Lenore's face. "Okay, you caught us."

Margaux let out a small scream of happiness. "How long as this been happening?"

"We've gone out twice since Dean's party."

"DEAN'S PARTY?" she shouted. "What happened at Dean's party? You two didn't snog then did you?"

Lenore nodded and squealed along with her sister.

"Lenny! Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Margaux said as she jumped up and down on the balls of her feet.

"I meant to! I really meant to. But with you and Dean…"

Margaux's face fell, but she quickly caught her mistake.

Lenore continued. "I didn't want to take anything away from you. I figured you had your own things to work through."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I guess that makes sense. But you still should have told me! I want to be happy for you!"

She leaned in close and whispered in her sister's ear, "Is he a good kisser?"

Lenore sighed. Her sister was terrible at whispering. The definition of "inside voice" was lost on her, so a whisper was more like a normal tone of voice for most people. Lenore laughed, "The best."

Margaux gave her sister a hug and squealed. She spun Lenore around until they faced the opposite direction. Lenore noticed the flush on Neville's cheeks as she smiled at him.

"Alright," Margaux said as she let go of Lenore, "I've got to run this book to Luna in the library before curfew, so I'll leave you two alone. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

She started to run away towards the library, until she called back, "Actually, you need to do less than I would do! I'm not a good role model, okay bye!"

Lenore laughed and yelled, "Love you!" to her sister, who returned the words. She turned to Neville, who smiled. "I wish I had a sister. Or brother."

Lenore shrugged. "Whoever you marry, you'll have their siblings."

Her sober words echoed similarities to her drunken sentence, when she had told him over the summer, " _If we get married, you can have Margaux and her husband._ " This made Neville bite his cheeks and stare at Lenore with all the admiration he could muster.

"What's that face for?"

He clasped her hand in his and came up with a quick lie. "Nothing. You just said I was the best kisser."

"Yeah," she smiled. "The best I've ever had, at least."

"No way. Better than Blaise?"

"Much."

His eyes glinted with happiness as he dropped her off near the Slytherin dungeons with a parting kiss on her forehead.


	27. Chapter 27: Neville Gets High

**This is a long chapter, so bare with it! I've sectioned it off so you can skip around if necessary. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and to all the new favs/follows! I appreciate you all!**

 **...**

 **Margaux's POV**

"Love, Michael."

Margaux stared at the words until her eyes glazed over. Nine days. That's how long Michael's letter had sat unopened on her dresser. She had been avoiding his communication, but she was not entirely sure why. Blame it on stress or homework or lack of time or any other lie, but the truth was, she was scared.

She had told Michael she loved him, but that was a lie.

She did not love him. She did not love anyone, and quite frankly, she was not sure if she could ever love anybody. Boys were kind of the worst. Not one had ever impressed her beyond mere expectations. At first, she thought Michael might be the one to make her change her mind. He started out sweet, but now she was tired of him. She was sick of being tied down by him. She would be sixteen in just a couple months and all she wanted to do was have fun, not have a boyfriend.

But she couldn't break up with Michael. She still felt too attached to him. There was nothing inherently wrong with the boy, he was just… boring. And jealous. And she knew she could do better than a boy who wears a Speedo.

"Mar?"

The voice of her roommate, Helaine Benson, broke her thoughts. She threw Michael's letter back down, and the paper fluttered between her dresser and the stone wall. She muttered an expletive and made a mental note to retrieve the paper later.

"Yeah, Hell?"

"Want to start glueing?"

"Definitely!"

Margaux hurried over to Helaine's bed, where a potion bottle of glue sat on her trunk, surrounded by small metallic silver craft stars. They were the type of stars found in confetti or preschool art rooms. The girls saw in a model in a magazine wearing the stars in her pinned bangs. The article suggested crafting glue and Margaux borrowed a similar mixture from Luna, who greatly enjoyed the idea, but did not wish to wear the stars to the Boomslang Barron fireworks show tonight, as she already planned on donning a large silver and gold sparkle on her head.

"This won't make my hair fall out, will it?" Helaine asked.

"No!" Margaux waved. "Well… it could. But probably not."

The girls worked on each other's hair, pasting about fifteen stars of various sizes into their swept-up bangs, until the sun began to radiate a burnt orange through their Gryffindor Tower window. Margaux suggested they begin their trek to the lake and Helaine agreed as she grabbed a blanket for them to sit on.

As they walked over the grassy fields alongside their fellow students to the Black Lake, Margaux asked, "Who even is Boomslang Barron? I've never heard of the man."

Helaine's eyes widened. "Never?"

"Nope. I'm a halfblood, remember?"

"Oh, that's right… Boomslang Barron is a famous wizard explorer. Kind of like… what's the guy's name? Christopher Columbus? But without all the killing of the native people. Boomslang was the first man to apparate around the world."

"Wait," Margaux interrupted, "how did they prove he went all the way around the world? He could have just apparated over a single centimeter and pretended he went all the way around."

"No," said Helaine, "he went from England to the recently discovered territory of New Zealand. So, I guess it was halfway around the world, then back."

"So how did they know about New Zealand?"

"The muggles found it by boat in the 1600s and Boomslang went maybe twenty years after them. He apparated there based only on descriptions from muggle journals."

"That's actually really cool."

"Yeah! He was a Gryffindor, too, so that makes it even better."

"Well, I can't see a Ravenclaw risking everything to see New Zealand. He could have been splinched over the Pacific!"

"Or even closer," Helaine said. "Most wizards don't apparate any further than their country borders, in fear of splinching."

Margaux nodded. "Yeah, when we lived in the U.S., my dad rarely apparated any further than the state. We took the Floo during the times we visited Wales."

"I don't think I would even apparate furthur than the city if I didn't have to. My oldest brother splinched his pinkie toe the first time he apparated."

Margaux grimaced. As the two girls crossed over the clearing to a spot near the middle, Margaux spotted Ginny and Dean sitting by themselves on a blue blanket, his arm wrapped around her shoulders lovingly. She felt a small twinge in her stomach, but she had no idea from what. Neville, Seamus, and Terry sat a few rows behind them, while her sister and her friends were in the righthand section much closer to the shore than she liked to be. Her and Helaine took a seat in the left section, only a row ahead of Derek, Dagwood, Ankur, and Sivan. If her plan went well tonight, Dagwood and Helaine would be together in no time.

 **.**

 **Dean's POV**

"And then he completely ignored me!"

Dean nodded as Ginny ranted on about Harry brushing off her comments. To be honestly, he wished he could just brush off her comments. He did not want to be near her anymore this weekend.

The truth was, Dean could not figure out if he was actually dating Ginny or not. She had started this relationship under the guise of making Harry and Margaux jealous, but by the first two week, Dean was beginning to think she just wanted to be able to say she had a boyfriend. It was true, he also liked being able to say he had a girlfriend, but he did not want that girl to be Ginny. He still wanted Margaux.

Dean glanced away from Ginny for a moment and caught sight of Margaux. She had stars glued into her hair which… was a little strange, but they made her look absolutely beautiful. She smiled and sat down with Helaine, talking animatedly about something. He loved the way she moved her hands while she spoke, as if she were a classical orchestra conductor. Her pink lips curved into a wide smile as she grabbed Helaine's elbow and laughed so much that she threw her head back.

He had to stop.

He tore his eyes away from Margaux and looked out over the lake. He was vaguely aware of Ginny's voice in his ear, but her words all sounded the same, as if she were speaking underwater. He hoped this was not a real relationship. But at the same time, he kind of did. He needed to get over Margaux. It was clear she did not fancy him in return. However, they had barely seen each other these past couple weeks. Ginny had instructed him not to get too near her, that distance would make her jealous, but it seemed to have the opposite affect. She seemed to be forgetting about him.

His stomach clenched. He just wanted to be friends with her again. He missed the sound of her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled in delight when he said something cheeky, and most importantly, he missed being the reason to make her smile. Recently, she had not smiled much around him. It was too awkward. Dean wished his night had ended like Neville's did: you snog the girl, you get the girl, you date the girl. But that's not how life works for most people.

Dean glanced back to his mates and was hit by a twinge of loneliness. Seamus had been his best mate since first year, and now suddenly he seemed to prefer spending him with Terry Boot. Neville had been a third wheel of their friendship, up until about fourth year, when Dean and Seamus realized he had potential to be a great mate. Seamus and Terry shared a bucket of popcorn and laughed while Neville smiled every so often and mostly kept his eyes on the gentle breeze blowing the trees.

Everyone was acting so strange lately. Ginny was more annoying than ever, yet somehow still tolerable. Seamus was drifting away. He could already tell Neville would drop him in one second flat if Lenore called for him. And Margaux… Dean wanted to cry every time he thought about what could have been.

He shifted his eyes from his mates to Margaux. Her green eyes peered back at him from ten meters away. He instantly broke her gaze and she did she, but their eyes found other other once more. She gave him a soft smile and a wave. His heart pounded as he returned the smile, careful not to let Ginny see him.

Dean needed something to do to take this mind off everything. He needed a hobby, other than pining after Margaux. He decided to think on it while he watched the fireworks.

 **.**

 **Lenore's POV**

Lenore's smile had not receded nearly the entire Saturday, but her grin was especially large when she caught sight of the red-haired twins, Fred and George Weasley.

"Oi!" the twins called, hurrying over to the three girls from their place near the lakeshore.

Katie and Alicia squealed and gave their fellow former-teammates a hug. "I didn't know you two would be here!" said Alicia.

"What?" Fred asked. "You thought we were going to turn this show loose on Dumbledore? Let him run it?"

"The man's beard would get caught in the mechanisms!" added George.

"I'm surprised he invited you back to the school you nearly burned down," Lenore smiled.

George wrapped a friendly arm around Lenore's shoulder in greeting. "If the flames had engulfed Umbridge, I would we would have graduated with honors."

"Maybe even become Deputy Headmasters," Fred said as he also gave her a short squeeze.

Leanne Kuang, a Hufflepuff, opted for a small wave from the twins. They were faintly aquatinted, but Leanne was definitely more Katie's friend than the twins and Angelina's. Lenore glanced over Fred's shoulder to the fireworks machine. It was a large contraption, round and maybe waist-high, and made with thick silver metal. The unit seemed to be smoking and Katie pointed it out before Lenore.

"Guys! Your machine!"

The twins turned around and groaned. Fred walked the twenty meters, kicked the machine, and it stopped fuming. Alicia furrowed her brow and dropped her jaw. "Is that it? This isn't going to explode is it? Do I need to sit farther away?"

"Nah!" George waved. "Perfectly safe. Although, this is the first time we've used it."

"What even is it?" Katie asked. "Why aren't you just using your wands?"

"Because, Bell, this is much more efficient. We plan on putting this on the roof of the shop during sales events. Dumbledore must have heard about our big fireworks push before the winter, combined with his love of Boomslang Barron, and invited us back to salvage our reputation."

"Salvaging your reputation would be completing the equivalent of secondary school," laughed Katie.

"Have you gone mad? Come back here? Not now that we've seen the outside world!"

"Oh, you're so grown-up," Alicia rolled her eyes.

George puffed up his chest. "I'll have you know I purchased a necktie the other day."

"Did you?" Katie's eyes widened.

"Well, I found it on the path in front of the shop, but it was in great condition."

The group laughed at their idiocy, before discussing their personal lives (AKA, their love lives.) George was coy about whether or not he was seeing Angelina. Fred met an older witch in a pub and had a snog, despite her divorced-status. Katie was not interested in dating at the moment. Alicia stayed mum on her bisexual status she had revealed to Katie and Lenore, but she did mention flirting with a bloke, Anthony Goldstein, during a Potions group lab. Leanne wanted to focus on her studies at the moment, as she had just recently broken up with a Hufflepuff boy in her and Lenore's year. Lenore stayed silent the entire time, allowing her friends to talk, but also deciding how to tell Fred and George about Neville.

She was not embarrassed by him, not at all. In fact, she was excited to tell everyone when they decided the time was right. The only problem was, Lenore had spent most of her last year pretending to be feelingless towards boys. She was the friend her mates turned to after a break up— when they were past the comforting stage, because she was hopeless at providing solace— and they wanted a good roast of their former flame. Lenore was a bit better at finding flaws in people than she was willing to admit, but she never found flaws in people who did her or her friends no harm. She was kind to everyone, until the crossed a line. When Leanne's boyfriend before this most recent one broke up with her via a note, Lenore took note of his rat-like appearance. His buck teeth and pointed face offered Leanne with a laugh. Lenore had done the same when Circe dated "Goth Draco," who called her a whore after she sucked his cock, per his own request. This boy looked exactly like Draco Malfoy, but somehow even broodier with his long black side swept-bangs and pierced ears. Lenore even offered her argument to vague acquaintance Lavender Brown that her previous crush, who had shamed her for eating "too much," looked like an alien transfigured into a human in order to blend in on Earth.

Lenore had gained the reputation of a man-hater, but that was not the case. She simply did not tolerate rude, selfish, cruel boys treating her friends, or anyone, worse than they behaved. Margaux was the same way. Both sisters were surprised they got any attention from boys whatsoever, given their behavior was incorrectly labelled "bitchy."

Lenore glanced back to Neville, who looked more uncomfortable than she had ever seen him outside the classroom. He sat on a blanket next to Seamus and Terry, who popped popcorn into each other's mouths from a meter away. Quite frankly, Lenore was surprised Neville fancied her. She could be mean sometimes. Not to him, or to anybody who did not deserve being the brunt of her rudeness, but… still. She was not as nice as him.

She always figured he would go for a quiet girl, similar him. He and this shy girl would get married, work office jobs, eat ready-made meals and sit quietly on the couch reading nonfiction novels until they went to bed at ten p.m. That's always how she imagined his life, before she got to know him better. However, Neville seemed to want more than that, now that she learned more about him. He wanted excitement and security and happiness. She was glad he liked her personality, because it was true, she scared a lot of blokes.

Tonight, Neville actually looked… sad. He did not seem to be enjoying sitting next to Seamus and Terry, and Lenore understood why. They looked like they were being quite annoying and exclusionary. She wanted to go sit by Neville, but of course she wanted to be with her friends. She decided that she made the commitment to her friends, so Neville would just have to sit there alone.

Fred broke Lenore's thoughts. He leaned over and elbowed Lenore. "So… we hear you're dating Longbottom, eh Henry?"

Lenore whirled her head around to Katie and Alicia. Katie spoke up in a meek voice, "I may have told Angelina."

"Who may have told me," said George.

"Who definitely told me," said Fred.

"Guys," Lenore whined to her female friends, "I told you to keep it quiet."

"Hey! I have!" said Alicia. "I wouldn't tell these blabbermouths anything."

"Tell us, Henry," Fred played, "what's it like to have a heart?"

Lenore rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't know."

"You must know now," smiled George as he crossed his arms. "What with you making goo-goo eyes at Longbottom all night."

"What! I have not!"

On instinct, Lenore looked over to Neville, who played with his thumbs while Seamus and Terry fought over a bucket of popcorn, spilling most of it on the ground and then catching Neville in the kernel crossfire.

"Ha!" Katie pointed at her. "You just did."

Lenore sighed. "Do you all think he looks sad?"

They all craned their necks over to Neville, who kept his eyes on the ground.

"Is that not his normal face?" asked Fred.

Lenore punched his arm. "Alright, yeah, but I kind of want to invite him over here."

"Yes!" Katie shouted as Alicia nodded along. "Invite him over! I want to get to know him."

Leanne, who had been quiet the entire time Fred and George were near, said, "Yeah! He doesn't look to be having much fun with those two idiots."

"Go ahead," said George. "We've got to get going anyways. The show's about to start and we've got to man the machine."

The group bid farewell with a promise to hang out after the firework finale.

Lenore glanced back to witness Terry force feeding Seamus a hot dog while the later made obscene gestures. With a warm "see ya" to Fred and George and a promise to be back soon, she headed over to Neville. As she grew closer, Seamus and Terry slowed their antics.

"Woah there, Henry!" Terry shouted. "I wouldn't come close to this disaster zone!"

Seamus tossed a fist full of popcorn at her and yelled, "You don't want to sit with us!"

"Quit it!" she laughed as she swiped the popcorn bucket from Seamus's hands and dumped it over his head.

Terry high-fived her and returned the popcorn from the ground to the bucket as Seamus rolled around in loose kernels. Lenore kneeled on the ground. "Are you two high?"

"High on life!" said Seamus.

"And Dragon's Hash," whispered Neville.

Lenore turned to him. "You're not high, are you?"

He scoffed. "What do you think?"

She smiled. "Alright. Well, if you want to come sit next to me and my friends, they want to get to know you a little better."

Neville glanced around Lenore to witness Katie, Alicia, and Leanne staring at him. Katie gave a small wave. "T-they really want me to sit by them?"

She laughed. "Yes! Neville, they're nice, I promise."

"I-I know. Okay, I'll come. Anything would be better than being pelted with popcorn."

"Except being pelted by a hot dog!"

With that, Seamus shoved an entire hot dog, including the bun, down the front of Neville's shirt. Neville grumbled as he picked bread crumbs from his chest. Lenore giggled and helped him up before they walked over to her friends.

"Hey, Longbottom!" Katie greeted him.

Next to speak was Alicia. "Hi! What's up with you?"

Leanne gave a small wave.

"Hi," he said quietly, but friendly, "I'm good. B-better now that I'm away from them."

"They're high," Lenore hissed as she sat down.

Neville sat on the other side of her, so that she separated him from her friends.

Katie nodded. "Seamus told me he's been friendly with Ankur Puri."

Lenore rolled her eyes at the drug-dealing fifth year Ravenclaw. "I hear it all from Derek and Margaux. He's got quite the business."

Neville bent his knees and held them with his arms. "Seamus should be giving him enough business to mortgage his first home."

The girls laughed, which surprised Neville.

"Has he really been doing that many drugs?" whispered Lenore, with concern on her face.

"Y-yeah. It's all Dragon's Hash. Nothing bad. But… yeah."

Katie shook her head. "Do you think Terry's been a bad influence?"

Neville shrugged. "I don't know. Seamus already drank a decent amount. Dragon's Hash is much better for you than alcohol, so I would prefer if he stuck with this."

"Have you ever gotten high?" whispered Alicia.

Neville shook his head, as did Lenore and Katie. Alicia grinned, along with Leanne. "We did. At summer camp."

"Look at you!" Lenore smacked Alicia's shoulder. "So many new camp experiences! Girls! Drugs! What camp stereotype is next, you went skinny dipping?"

"I did," Leanne giggled. "Alicia stayed back."

"What?" Katie shouted. "No way! With boys?"

Leanne rolled her eyes. "Is there any other way?"

All of a sudden, a body flashed in front of Lenore. With a whoosh, her Slytherin roommate Odette Trujillo sat down. "Lenore?" she interrupted. "Do you mind if I sit here? I was with Theodore and he's really starting to annoy me."

"Yeah!" Lenore said. "You all remember Odette."

The three girls gushed over Odette's dirty-blonde Cuban curls, asking her what products she used and how she kept it from getting darker with the lack of sunlight in the U.K., but Odette eyes kept flickering between Lenore and Neville. Finally, she said, "So, this is Neville?"

Lenore smiled. "Yeah. Neville, this is Odette, my favorite roommate."

"H-hi," he said, warmly shaking her hand.

Odette nodded with a smile, then whispered in Lenore's ear, "He is cuter up close."

Katie overheard and nodded. "I agree."

Neville remained ignorant of this conversation, as he kept his eyes on Lenore or the ground. "You said you were with Theodore?" Alicia asked. "As in, Theodore Nott?"

"Yeah," Odette grimaced. "He's… moody lately."

"You mean all the time," Lenore said.

"Why?" asked Leanne.

Odette leaned in close to the group. "His dad has been in Azkaban since the start of July. And his mum died when he was a kid. He's been alone in that house of his for the past two months."

While Odette talked, Lenore glanced over at Neville, who had most likely met Theodore's father at the Department of Mysteries. He bit in his lips and looked at Lenore. After a moment of eye contact, he whispered in her ear, "I almost feel sorry for him."

She returned the hushed tone. "I feel bad for him. He didn't ask to be born to those parents."

Neville nodded silently.

As Alicia opened her mouth to talk, a loud noise interrupted her. To the group's right, Professor Vector could be seen grabbing a bottle from Professor Babbling's hand. Lenore glanced around. They seemed to be the only students who heard the annoyed grumble from Babbling. The two professors stood concealed by dark shadows and trees.

"Come on, Septima! Just take a little swig! I'm sure you'll have a much better attitude about the whole thing when you're—"

"No, thank you, Sheda!" gasped the strict Arthimancy professor. "I highly doubt—"

But she was cut off by Professor Babbling tossing the bottle against her lips.

 **.**

 **Margaux's POV**

Across the small clearing, Margaux pointed to the shadows. "Helaine! Look! Two professors are drinking!"

Helaine gasped. "Who do you think it is?"

Margaux squinted, but did not seem to find herself any better at sight. "No idea. I hope it's not Snape. Doesn't he seem like the type to be an alcoholic?"

"Who's talking about me?" Derek smirked as he plopped down.

Margaux rolled her eyes. "Drinking exclusively pink coconut rum does not make you an alcoholic."

He ignored her and instead greeted Helaine, who smiled shyly. Then he whispered to Margaux, "So, Dagwood is over there with Ankur and Sivan. Want me to go get him?"

Margaux nodded. "Send him over here. But you stay over there."

Derek stuck out his tongue and stood up with a goodbye to Helaine. Within moment, Dagwood was towering over Margaux and Helaine. "H-hi," he stammered. "Derek said you needed me for something."

"Sure we do!" Margaux reached up and grabbed his wrist. She pulled the boy down to the ground, so that he sat between her and Helaine. Dagwood appeared more nervous than ever, as he accidently brushed Helaine's thigh as he fell to the ground.

"S-sorry," he stammered.

"Don't worry about it," she smiled shyly.

Silence beat across the group until Margaux spoke up with a lively story of her adventure on the lake the other day.

 **.**

 **Dagwood's POV**

Dagwood's life really was going great lately. A little too great if you asked him. He kept waiting for something to go wrong, but for the past few months, everything seemed to be going right. His parents were back together, which was unnervingly good. When your mum's an alcoholic witch, you have always got to be wary. Last winter break during month three of his parent's separation, she drunkenly transfigured his muggle father into a donkey, because she thought he was being an ass. Dagwood was forced to send for the aurors to help his father and his mother was forced into St. Mungo's Rehabilitation Center for Alcohol and Drug Dependency. "MR. CADD," as it was lovingly referred to by patronizing visitors to the Bukowski household.

If you had asked Dagwood last December whether or not he thought his parents would ever get back together, he would have answered with a laugh and a resounding, "No."

But Karen and Bartosz Bukowski managed to find each other once more. His mum had completed rehab and was now nearly six months sober. It was strange, coming home in the summer and not seeing her with a drink in her hand at 3:30 in the afternoon. Dagwood never liked to speak of the time his mum threw an empty beer can at him as soon as he walked through the door, but every time he saw the litter-free living room shag carpet, he could not help but remember hundreds of tin Skol's Lager cans blanketing the floor.

Other than his reunited parents, Dagwood's personal life was also wonderful. He started exercising this summer, mainly to get away from his parents and their self-help books. His mum had "found God" now, which was nice, but Dagwood did not enjoy hearing sermons at the dinner table. That was weird too, now. They ate dinner at a table. Together. At the same time. And supper was not a can of Tesco-brand spaghetti meal, it was real food that his parents prepared. Together.

Normal life did not suit Dagwood. He did not enjoy the boringness that came with two happily married parents, mainly because he still felt there was something off about their relationship. Maybe now that he was older, he simply picked up on the nuances more. Karen and Bartosz appeared to love each other, or at least tolerate each other, but nobody else seemed to like them together.

He noticed the way his mum's sister sneered as she mispronounced "Bartosz" for the ten-thousandth time. ("Bar-tawsh" he wanted to yell at her.) He noticed how people stared at him on the train when he spoke in Polish with his father. ("What are you looking at?" he wanted to cry out.) He noticed women chattering on, wondering why the signs in public places suddenly had "that awful language" written on them. ("Because English is not actually the official language of the U.K.," he refrained from voicing.)

His dad was not born in England, but that should not matter. Dagwood knew anti-Polish sentiment only grew by the day in Britain, the same with blood status in the wizarding world. Dagwood was half-Polish Jew and half-blood. Nothing he ever did felt complete. He was always the middle man, mediating between his fighting parents, between his father and a shopkeeper who did not understand his accent, or between his muggleborn roommate Ankur, who enjoyed referencing muggle cartoons to Derek Davies, their Pureblood roommate who just wanted to understand both worlds.

This year, Dagwood did not want to be caught in the middle. But here he was, sitting between Margaux Henry and Helaine Benson, his crush of the past ten months. She looked positively gorgeous tonight, with her shoulder-length thick black hair, her shapely lips covered in a beautiful shade of purple-ish pink, and her sparkling brown eyes meeting his every so often, then shyly glancing away. His stomach twisted and turned each time her eyes met his. She was so beautiful and there he was, sitting like a lump of squares joined together to form the vague shape of a human body.

This summer, a woman on the city bus turned to Dagwood and said, "You're Polish, aren't you?"

He asked her how she could tell and she said, "You're quite blonde and stocky. You've got the forehead of a Pole."

So, that reference killed any chance he had at attaining self-confidence that holiday. Dagwood had lost about a stone and a half by taking up jogging to get away from his parents' Bible study group. The pimple cream Lenore Henry created for him back in June lasted the summer, but he needed to ask her for more. And with a job as a bag boy at the local independent grocery, he managed to save up a little money for proper fitting clothes, no more of his dad's hand-me-downs. His mum recently took a job as a motel maid and the family was not spending hundreds of dollar a week on alcohol, so they no longer heard threats from their landlord about being kicked out of the flat.

The way Dagwood rattled on about his life in his head, one would think it was quite a sad little show, but it was not. He made it work. Being away from it all for nine months of the year helped. His friends also helped. As Margaux spoke about her recent run-in with a large magical fish down at the lake, he soon forgot his troubles. He even forgot for a second to be tense around Helaine. She had not spoken much since he sat down, but he had seen her animatedly discussing something with Margaux just before he joined them.

Helaine was terribly shy, but so was Dagwood. Sometimes he thought she did not like being around him, but he realized she was not acting cold, she was simply bashful. Despite this, she was so much fun to talk with. When the pair worked together on a Herbology project last October, they would stay up late in the lab talking about anything. He heard her speak more times during that two week project than he had ever heard her before or since. She told him about her parents, her two older brothers, what it was like growing up with the stereotypes surrounding an Asian mother and an African father, how she wishes she knew more about muggle culture, the difficulties she has taming her thick textured hair, her favorite books, why she enjoys Transfiguration more than Herbology, and more.

Falling for her was easy. She was smart and kind. She was shy, like him, so she understood how to get him to talk. They came from somewhat similar backgrounds; although her parents were highly-educated, happily married British-born wizards, they were sometimes treated like "foreigners," as was Dagwood's father. It was nice to have life events in common, in addition to interests.

Margaux interrupted his thoughts with the end of her story. "And then this giant, glittery fish starts flopping around and hits Connor McCormick smack in the face!"

Dagwood smiled, but he heard Helaine absolutely double over in laughter. It was the loudest she had laughed around him in months. He turned to her and watched her eyes squint with glee and her hand fly to her mouth to stop herself from being too loud. Dagwood's grin grew larger. "You don't like Connor?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head and continued giggling. "I can't stand him."

"One time he pulled out his ukulele dur—"

"THE UKULELE!" Margaux screamed as her and Helaine were crippled with laughter. "Oh my god, I think I told you the story of how I smashed it to pieces last year?"

Dagwood nodded and chuckled.

"What's your story?"

"H-he brought out the ukulele during Charms and started to play a Radiohead song—"

"Was it 'Creep?'" Margaux interrupted.

"I think so."

"Of course."

"Well, Flitwick took the ukulele from him for a week. I saw him crying in the Ravenclaw Tower that night. Derek asked him if everything was alright and he shouted, 'No! My ukulele is gone!' And nobody felt sorry for him."

The girls giggled wildly as Margaux stood up. "I'll be right back! I've got to tell Luna something!"

"Wait, Mar—" Dagwood held up his hand in panic.

But it was too late. She left him alone with Helaine.

The Helaine Benson.

And now he would have to figure out how to start a conversation with her. He could not remember a single way to begin dialogue. Not a single word in the English language washed over his tongue. All that was coming to his mind was Polish words. He could not be panicking in Polish. This could not be happening.

"Are you okay?" Helaine asked, breaking the silence.

"Tak jestem— er— oh god— yes."

She giggled. "Was that a word?"

"Not in English," he sighed.

Her smile radiated onto him and he finally found the humor in the situation.

"I-it was two words, actually. I-I was trying to say, 'Yeah, I'm fine.'"

"Do you do that a lot?" she asked kindly. "Think in two languages?"

"No," he shook his head. "I… I don't know why I… did that. I speak English better than Polish. English was my first language. I speak Polish pretty fluently, but I can't read it well, so it's kind of hard to think in it if you don't know to write it, you know?"

Helaine agreed. "I think it's the same for my grandparents. Liberians speak mostly English, but my granddad and grandma speak Bandi, as well. They can't write it, though, and my dad can't even speak it. My mom speaks fluent Korean and I can understand it but I can't speak much more than a six year old could."

Dagwood nodded, fascinated by her life. "My dad can't write English to save his life, but it speaks it really well."

Helaine smiled at him once more. "So, how are you tonight?"

"I'm great, actually." He really was great now that he sat less than half a meter from her. "How about you?"

"I'm great, too. I'm excited for the fireworks. I've never actually seen an entire fireworks show."

"Never?" he raised his brow.

She shook her head. "My mum's an auror. She doesn't like the loud noises. They're off-putting."

"Oh yeah," Dagwood said. "I can see how that might trigger something. It's going to be loud. Especially with the Weasley's."

She nodded. "Yeah, I hope it'll be flamboyant. So, why is your night so great?"

Dagwood tilted his head over to his friends, Ankur and Derek, who were spread out on a blanket, staring at the stars. "I was having fun with my mates."

Her face fell and he realized his tone was not correct. He sounded angry and he put too much emphasis on the word _was._ Why did he do that? He could not figure out where that harsh voice came from. Before he could correct his mistake, Helaine bit her lip and said sadly. "Oh, I don't mean to take you away from them. Sorry. I'm just rambling on, I-I didn't mean to… make you stay."

"No!" he quickly argued. "I… I like being here… with you."

He was thankful it was dark, or else his blush would have been more than obvious.

"I'm not keeping you from your friends?"

"Y-you're my friend, too. I hope."

She beamed. "Definitely."

Dagwood desperately wanted her to be more than his friend, but he was happy just hearing her declare that he meant something to her, even if that was only friendship. Margaux interrupted his thoughts as she plopped down next to him. Dagwood tore his eyes from Helaine and looked at Margaux, who smiled knowingly.

"Did you two have a nice chat without me?"

"Yeah!" Helaine said brightly.

Dagwood placed his fist over his mouth, resting his elbow on his bent knee, to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. He did not care how short their conversation was, he merely enjoyed any conversation with Helaine.

As Margaux opened her mouth, the first four notes of "God Save the Queen" blared over her words, causing everyone to jump. The entire Hogwarts school peered towards Flitwick's choir behind them.

"Bloody hell," Dagwood exhaled as his heart raced. "When did they get there?"

"Scared the shit outta me," Margaux agreed.

The school stood for the muggle national anthem, Margaux made a comment about how every time she hear this song she accidentally sings the American song of the same tune "My Country 'Tis of Thee," and the students sat once more. The choir attempted to encourage everyone to sing along to "The Ballad of Boomslang Barron," but nobody, save for a few purebloods, knew the lyrics besides the classic line, " _Without a Queen's mention/ He was spared a splinchin'_ " which was screeched enthusiastically by nearly everyone.

As the choir began the next generic patriotic song, a single firework, which exploded to spell out "BROUGHT TO YOU BY WEASLEYS' WIZARD WHEEZES," commenced the show. The students settled into the grass on their backs for a better view.

This was the best fireworks show Dagwood had ever witnessed. The vibrant colors lit up against the starry night sky, like a Pollock painting on a black canvas. Each explosion formed a different shape with unique colors. One red was not the same as the last red, or even the last ten reds. Shades of every color filled his eyes as his back rested against the chilly ground. One of the last cozy breezes of summer air wafted over his body, along with the sound of rousing choral tunes.

As Dagwood's eyes took in the sights, he felt something warm near his left hand. His fingers spread apart as a hand intertwined their digits together. Dagwood glanced down and saw Helaine's hand clasped in his. His mouth dropped open with a quiet gasp, but he quickly shut his mouth, in fear someone would glance over.

This had to be a mistake. Did Helaine know it was his hand she held? Maybe she thought he was a tree root or a rock. Or maybe Margaux. Girls were touchy with each other, right? He moved his gaze towards her, but she kept her eyes on the sky. He could see the corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. He gave her hand a small squeeze and she finally glanced over at him.

"Do you mind?" she whispered.

"N-n-not at all."

He could not figure out why she was holding his hand. Surely it didn't mean she fancied him? He turned his head back to the fireworks and tried not to think about her rationale, but he could not stop his mind from spinning. The way he saw it, there could only be four reasons she held his hand: she was cold, she was scared, she fancied him or she was teasing him. Each option scared him. She could not be cold, because her hand felt warm. She did not look scared, although she very well could be. But of what? Fireworks were harmless and Helaine did not seem like the type to turn to somebody for comfort anyway. The final options meant either she fancied him or she knew he fancied her and she wanted to play with his feelings. He could not see her holding a bloke's hand if she did not fancy him.

As a large green firework exploded above them, she moved her body closer to his and turned on her side, so that the front of her pressed up against his arm. He shivered as her warm breath rolled over his skin.

"Dag," she whispered in his ear, "will you… will you kiss me?"

His entire body tensed up, from his toes to his abdomen, even his shoulders laid frozen against the plush grass. Fireworks exploding in the sky drummed on his heavily beating heart. He turned this head to look at this gorgeous girl next to him. His lips parted when he realized how close she was to him.

"W-w-what?" he finally managed to stammer. He had to be sure he heard her correctly.

"Do you fancy me?" she breathed.

He could just barely hear her soft voice over the fireworks display, but he clearly knew what she asked. Slowly, he nodded. "D-d-do you fancy… me?"

She nodded, noticeably nervous.

Dagwood could not halt himself any more. As anxious as he was, his glee carried his courage as he leaned up on his elbow. His face hovered above hers, hesitating for a moment, until her hands clutched the back of his head and she pulled him down to her. The second his lips touched hers, he wanted to scream with exhilaration. His stomach clenched and he actually felt himself quake with every movement of her perfect lips. She fancied him. He fancied her. Oh Merlin, this could not be real. As soon as this kiss ended, he would open his eyes and find himself staring up at his blue Ravenclaw canopy bed.

Except, this was not a dream. He was kissing Helaine. Her hands were in his hair. Dagwood did not care who was watching, and he was sure plenty of people in their general area at least gave them a glance. The clearing was dark, but with each pop of a firework, he knew anyone could see them. And Margaux. She sat right next to him, no doubt thrilled by this new development. He knew she had made it her mission to get him and Helaine together. She must have said something to Helaine. That was the only way she would have the confidence to come on to him.

Dagwood still could not believe they were kissing. She had been so shy just a few minutes ago—and for the past ten months— but she was the initiator. She asked _him_ to kiss her. God, he had to stop his mind from swirling. He did not want to ruin this moment by overthinking. She took his bottom lip between her soft lips over and over, sometimes switching to his top without warning. Dagwood was perilously close to fainting, not only from shock, but from lack of breath. He had forgotten to breathe before he kissed her and without a break since they began, he realized he would have to force himself away from her.

Finally, he pulled back, making sure she could hear him take a deep breath, as not to make her think he wanted to stop. He stared into her caramel eyes, his face merely centimeters from hers, and she smiled. His entire body melted and he could not drag himself away from her. He knew he should lay back down, but he liked being this close to her. She did not release her grip on his head, but rather she yanked his ear down to her mouth. "I really fancy you now," she whispered playfully.

Dagwood closed his eyes and took a moment to bask in her words. He moved to her ear. "I didn't think it was possible for me to fancy you anymore than I already did, but… I do."

She pecked his cheek, which surprised him. He wanted to keep kissing her. God, he wanted that more than anything. But he had to stop. He had to show restraint. Her hands released his head and he compelled himself to lay down once more and let her watch the rest of the fireworks. She reached for his hand and laced her fingers between his. As she watched the fireworks, he kept his eyes on her, because, at the moment, she was the prettiest sight he could see.

 **.**

 **Dean's POV**

The fireworks weren't all that great.

Each pop brought Dean no joy, much like everything else in his life lately. He was more than annoyed at his decisions lately, and he knew he could have to take control once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Margaux. She had returned to her spot next to Luna, who laid by Ginny. Her blonde hair glinted off the moonlight as she whispered in Luna's ear about something he could not hear. He picked up the word "kiss" from Luna's mouth, but nothing much else. The two girls giggled and he heard another word, "Sivan."

Sivan Kalpur, okay. Ginny had mentioned something about how he fancied Luna, but he honestly did not care.

Another word could be heard from Luna: "—Michael—"

Dean shut his ears down and turned back to the sky. This was not a conversation he wanted to hear. What he wanted was for Margaux to dump that tosser. Even if Dean could not date her, he did not want her to be stuck with such a possessive loser.

 **.**

 **Neville's POV**

As fireworks exploded in the sky and shimmered down sparks, Neville felt Lenore curl up closer to him. He glanced over to her, but she must not have noticed him looking, nor that she was even close to him, as she did not acknowledge him. Her body heat warmed him up, as the ground was quite cool by this point in the evening. She closed her eyes and Neville waited for her to open them, but she never did.

"Hey," he nudged her.

Her eyes gradually opened as she turned to face him. "What?"

"Are you tired?"

"No," she rolled her eyes. "I'm bloody cold again. I don't understand, I'm wearing a jacket."

Neville hesitated, before he got the courage to say, "W-want to get closer to me?"

"Alright," she grinned.

Neville brought his arm up so she could lay on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her. She turned her body slightly to the side, so that she was curved close to him, but she kept her eyes on the sky. Lenore offered to say a warming spell over them, and Neville realized she had already planned to perform the charm, until he provided his arm. She wanted to be close to him for him, not for his body heat. He smiled as she closed her eyes for a brief few seconds and basked in their warmth, before turning her eyes on the sky once more.

As the fireworks flew over the starry night, one caught the gang's attention. The sparks spelled out the letters, "K.B. IAS."

Alicia hissed, "What the hell does that mean?"

"It must be initials!" Lenore offered.

"K.B.," Leanne said. "Katie Bell."

Katie groaned. "I hate them."

"But what about IAS?" asked Lenore.

Leanne said, "It can't be initials. It must be a code."

"It's a sentence," Alicia deducted.

The girls thought a moment. At once, Lenore gasped. "Katie Bell is a slag!"

Katie let out a low rumbling noise. "If that's what it is, I'm going to kill them!"

She turned her head towards Lenore and visibly blinked in shock at the sight of Neville's arm around Lenore. She laughed. "You two are quite close."

Neville started to move away, but Lenore stopped him. "She's kidding."

"I'm not kidding," smiled Katie. "Alicia, could you get a piece of paper between them?"

Alicia examined the pair, also appearing startled at first. "I don't believe so."

The two older girls giggled as Lenore settled in to Neville's arm with defiance. No matter where she touched— her shoulder under his arm, her hand in his palm, her arms around his back—her body always fit perfectly with his. Well, not perfectly, he reconsidered. They had their share of awkward moments. Just a few minutes ago she banged her head on the ground when he shifted his arm too suddenly. But they always laughed it off and adjusted until it felt near perfection.

As the last firework lit up the sky, students clapped and began to trudge back to their Houses. Odette sat up and her eyes flew to Lenore and Neville. She gave a wide grin. "You two really are so cute together."

Neville blushed and followed Lenore upright. "T-thanks," he stammered as Lenore said the word a bit more enthusiastically.

A sly smile crossed Odette's lips and she excused herself to return to her Slytherin friends. He watched Lenore stand up to talk to Odette, most likely about Theodore, and he felt warm breath by his ear. He turned his face to the side and saw the loose black curls of Ankur Puri, the fifth year drug-dealing Ravenclaw.

"Be cool," were the first words out of his mouth. This would not be good.

He placed a long, brown cylinder in Neville's hand and shut the boys fingers over it. "Give this to Seamus. I won't see him for a while. He said you'd take it. He's already paid me. Get it in your pocket, be cool!"

Neville shoved the joint in his trouser pocket as Ankur scurried away.

Holy fuck.

He had drugs in his pocket. He needed to get back to the castle and transfer it to Seamus's possession, but there was no time. Lenore gestured for him to follow her over to Fred and George, who smiled at him. His mind was spinning. As he walked, he could feel the blunt in his pocket. The forest had cleared nearly entirely of people. Even the professors reeled it in and headed for the castle before properly checking for their students. The four girls and a reluctant Neville met Fred and George at their firework machine near the shore.

"I'd say that went off without a hitch!" Fred swaggered up to them.

"Nobody's face melted off, so that's a plus," said Lenore.

"Ooo," George smiled. "A bit dark, isn't that?"

"You should just be lucky it didn't explode," Katie rolled her eyes. "So, when do you two have to leave?"

George glanced around. "No clue. We actually haven't seen Dumbledore at all. McGonagall told us where to set up."

Neville could hardly focus on their conversation. All he could think about was the illegal drugs in his pocket, that at any second could fall out or be stolen or seen. He could not stop worrying.

Fred picked up where George left off. "I assume we can stay as long as we want, so long as you girls aren't too chicken to be out past curfew."

"Longbottom, you can go ahead and head back to the castle," George nodded towards him.

Neville was thrown from his thoughts and he froze. He had no idea what George was talking about. He had not been paying close attention to their words, but the twin was smiling at him. Lenore grabbed his hand. "He's staying."

She turned to him. "Right?"

Part of him wanted to leave. A big part. Huge, even. He wanted to get these drugs the hell out of his pocket. But another part of him screamed stay. He wanted to be with Lenore and he wanted to get to know her friends. He nodded silently to Lenore and she smiled.

"Alright," Fred smiled. "But Longbottom, if you're going to hang with us, you've got to be cool. Don't tell any professors about anything."

"He hasn't done that since about first year," Katie laughed. "Neville's cool now."

If only she knew he had drugs on his person.

Alicia agreed. "Yeah, he seems like he could be a fun guy!"

"Maybe if you got some alcohol in him," George examined him.

Fred nodded. "That would relax him."

"Have you got some?" Alicia licked her lips.

George shook his head. "Sorry."

Neville spoke up quietly. "I-I've got a blunt."

Everyone swung their heads around to him, staring wide-eyed at this shy kid who just offered them drugs. Lenore's head jerked the most violently and he met her eyes.

"WHAT?" Lenore exclaimed.

Neville had no idea why he divulged this information. It was most likely an attempt to sound cool in front of all these near-strangers, and he kind of hated himself for it.

"Y-yeah," he stammered. "J-just now A-ankur Puri told me to give it to Seamus. Didn't you just see? It was as Odette was leaving. You were talking to her? And Ankur came over? I tried to argue with him."

Little noises escaped Lenore's mouth. None of the sounds formed words, so the twins took over. "Well, you wanna share?"

"No," Lenore said. "No. It's not yours. It's Seamus's."

"Puh-leez," Fred waved. "He won't miss it."

Neville took his out of his pocket and started to hand it to a twin, but Lenore grabbed it from his palm. "No! You people are not getting high by pressuring Neville."

"T-they really aren't pressuring me," Neville said. "I just want it away from me. Ankur's the one who pressured me."

Lenore was quiet. She looked into his eyes, but he could not tell what emotion she was feeling. "L-look," he said, "it's Seamus's fault for telling Ankur I would take it. If he can't even talk to me tonight, h-he shouldn't say that. You all can smoke it, I really don't care."

Lenore's mouth fell open. He knew none of the words coming out of his mouth sounded like him, but… it was how he felt. Finally, she handed Fred the joint.

"Alright," the twin said. "Let's get away from this clearing and into the forest over there by the shore."

The group travelled over grass and tree roots towards the secluded area, with Fred and George leading the way and the girls, minus Lenore, crowded in the middle. Neville and Lenore remained further back.

Lenore took his hand. "Are you sure about this? Are you sure you don't want to keep it for Seamus?"

"N-no," he said. "I… I'm kind of mad at him. And I know this isn't right and I know this is against every type of rule, moral and school, but… I'm just tired, Len. I don't want him to use me anymore today. And he's still my best mate and I love the bloke, but… I can't."

"Okay," she whispered.

They were quiet a moment, before he asked quietly, "D-does this change your opinion on me?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm just… amazed. This is so unlike you."

"I-I know. I feel kind of bad. But I also don't. I was planning on paying him back. I just really don't want to get in trouble if I get caught with it."

Lenore beamed. "Pay him back, that's a good idea! I'll even give you some money. That's more like you."

"Don't give me money," he shook his head. "It's okay. I-I'm not ever mean, I promise you."

"No!" she said. "I know. It's fine. You're allowed to be mean if you want. I am."

"You're never mean."

"I definitely am."

"You're mean for the right reasons. Anytime you're mean, it's justified. You're never mean just to be mean. And I can tell you've got a good heart, even if you slip up sometimes."

The joy twinkled in her eyes. Neville could tell how much to meant to her to be called good. With her Slytherin robes following her around, "good" was not an adjective strangers thought of when they saw Lenore. The group sat in a circle and Lenore let go of his hand. George wasted no time getting to business. The tip of his wand acted like a lighter and the joint met his lips with a deep inhalation. He exhaled the swirling smoke into the night sky and passed it to Fred on his right, who then when to Katie and so forth, until it made it's way through the girls and ended up between Lenore's fingers. She hesitated.

"Are you going to do it, Henry?" George asked.

"I-I'm not sure."

"We're not trying to pressure you," Fred said as he stared into the starry night. "You don't have to."

"Yeah," Katie said. "I wouldn't normally do anything like this. You know it's my first time. Whatever you want is cool."

Lenore looked over at Neville. "Are you going to do it?"

"I… I haven't decided. I-I was waiting to see what you do."

She laughed. "How about you decide? I'll do it if you do it."

Neville nodded. "A-alright."

"So, which is it?"

"Let's… let's try it."

"Will you be making all your decisions as a singular unit now?" Alicia smiled.

"No!" Lenore argued. "I just… I don't want him to think I'm an awful person."

"I could never," Neville whispered.

She placed the joint over her smile, took a long puff, and exhaled. Her exhalation was a bit less fluid than what he had seen so far and she ended with a cough. She passed the Dragon's Hash to him. "Your turn."

He slowly placed the blunt between his lips. With all his courage, he sucked the smoke from the blunt and felt the hot, dry air travel into his lungs. It was not a pleasant feeling, not at all, but he had to get over it. He let the air rest in his lungs for a single second, then he did his best to exhale at an constant speed. He also finished with a cough, like Lenore, to expel the final dank air from inside.

"Don't cough!" George said. "Coughing makes you higher."

"What?" Neville asked.

"It's true," Alicia said. "I don't know why. It makes you more light-headed."

"Great," Lenore said as she looked at Neville.

They passed the blunt around a couple more times, before Fred and George finished it up. So far, Neville did not feel any different. After a few minutes, his head felt light, as if his brain was no longer in his skull, and then almost at once, his brain was back, and clearer than ever. He felt like he was floating, like no part of him touched the ground, or even the Earth. He was high up in the starry sky, floating around lazily with these other six people. His nose felt like it was running, so he touched the back of his wrist to it, but nothing was there. His eyes seemed to be wider, like he could see more around his peripheral vision with a single glance. It was as if he just woke up, but it was a relaxin stir, with no alarms or responsibilities.

"How are you feeling, Longbottom?" asked Fred.

Neville blinked once and noticed how light his eyelids were. "Good. Really… good."

The girls giggled. They seemed to find everything funny. Only Lenore was not at the giggling stage. He peered over to her and she had a blank look in her eye.

"You okay?" he whispered in her ear over everyone else's talking.

"Yeah," she shook herself out of her thoughts. "I'm fine. I feel good. I'm just really dizzy."

"Dizzy?"

"Yeah."

"I don't think you're supposed to be dizzy. I feel the opposite."

"I need to lay down," she said. She scooted away from the circle and laid flat on her back in the plush grass. "That's better."

She stared up to the sky that could be seen between dark tree branches. Neville laid back with her. Joy overwhelmed his body and he could tell he was smiling, even though he was only vaguely aware of his face's existence.

"Why are you grinning?" Lenore asked cheerfully.

Neville sprawled out on the grass. "I don't know. I'm just happy. Completely, utterly, happy."

She smiled and shifted her body to look at him. "Why are you happy?"

"Everything is going right," he said. "I mean… the last few months have been awful. I… I just feel sad at night. But lately I haven't been feeling that way."

Her voice quieted. "You feel sad at night?"

He nodded. "I think about the… the Ministry thing a lot."

Lenore took his hand. "And now why do you feel good again?"

"I just feel… appreciated. I don't know. Gran is treating me like I'm my own person, my professors don't think I'm a complete idiot anymore, I've got friends who don't think I'm the little prat I used to be. And you."

Delight crinkled in her eyes.

"So… yeah. I just feel good. Are you still dizzy?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm fantastic now. I feel like I'm floating away."

"Then I'm floating with you," he said, "because you've got my hand."

"No, you're keeping me from floating away. I seriously feel like you're stable on the ground and I'm hanging in the air like a balloon and the second you let go, I'll fly into outer space and go live at a birthday party at the angel bowling alley."

"What?" he chuckled. "Angel bowling alley?"

"Yeah! Thunder is angels bowling. Rain is angels playing in the sprinkler. Lightening is angels taking cute photos of each other."

"Who came up with this?"

"My muggle grandma," she smiled. "We'd sit on her front porch swing and watch the thunderstorms. We had all sorts of stories about angels at the bowling alley."

"Do you miss your American family?" he asked.

She nodded. "Sometimes. They're all a bit crazy. My dad's side of the family is definitely less weird, despite them being magical. They come to visit every so often. My grandma is coming this Christmas holiday."

"Does she know your dad's a wizard? Or that you're at a boarding school for magical people?"

Lenore shook her head. "No. She thinks we're at a private Catholic school. Saint Agnes of the Perpetual Bleeding Heart."

"Sounds dark."

"Not as dark as 'Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.'"

He laughed as he and Lenore sat up to join the rest of the circle. Fred and George were properly baked, as were the girls to a lesser degree. Only him and Lenore seemed to have inhaled less than the others. The gang sat and talked for quite a while, giggling and teasing each other gleefully. They got to talking about the most rebellious things they've done involving drugs or alcohol. Katie once stole peach schnapps from her mom's liquor cabinet and got drunk with her cousin behind a gardening shed. Alicia smoked at summer camp. Fred and George tried a harsher form of drugs than Dragon's Hash, something called W2W, which was similar to the muggle cocaine. They did not enjoy it and they vowed never to do anything other than the occasional Dragon's Hash and round of beers again. Lenore got buzzed and snogged Blaise. Neville… he didn't really have a good story, so he talked about spending time on the muggle carpark last summer with Lenore and Katie. When it got to be Leanne's turn, she said, "This doesn't involved drugs or alcohol, but I went skinny dipping."

"Skinny dipping?" George raised his eyebrows.

"You went skinny dipping, Kuang?" his twin awed.

Leanne nodded.

"And here I thought you were all quiet and innocent!" Fred awed.

"Not entirely," she smiled.

"That gives me an idea," George said.

Fred turned to him and as they made eye contact, their brains seemed to connect wires. The other twin smiled at once. "I'm up for it."

"Up for what?" asked Katie.

George's shirt was off before anyone knew what was happening. "Skinny dipping?"

Leanne and Lenore immediately closed their eyes. "Put your shirt back on, for fuckssake!" cried Lenore.

"Come on, Lenny!" George smacked her arm. "You know you want to."

"George, you can't touch her remember?" Fred argued. "She's got a boyfriend now."

He nodded towards Neville, who blushed. "How about you Longbottom? Fancy a swim?"

Neville was too shocked to say anything. His brain buzzed with activity, but none of his thoughts translated to words.

"I'll go," Katie said. "But I'm not getting naked. That's too weird."

"Come on," George said. "We've seen you and Alicia naked in the locker room."

"And I've seen you naked," Katie rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't think you'd want to show any of that off."

George and Fred feigned great offense between chuckles. "Bell, I am offended!"

Fred's shirt was now on the ground and he picked up George's mock affront. "Honestly, woman, you'd think we were trolls by the way you said that."

"You are trolls," Katie laughed.

But still, she tore her shirt off, revealing a pink sports bra. "We're going skivvy dipping, not skinny dipping. You better not take off your underpants."

Alicia shrugged and ripped off her trousers, leaving her standing in red knickers. "Fine with me."

Leanne hesitated, but soon found herself tearing off clothes, as well. Only Lenore and Neville remained fully clothed, too nervous to even look at each other. Fred climbed in the water and splashed Lenore from her place on the bank. "Come on, ya prude!"

Finally, Lenore found enough courage to turn to Neville. "Should I?"

Nearly his entire body had flushed red in embarrassment. "I-i-if you want to. I-I can head back to the castle."

"Longbottom!" George splashed him as well. "That's not how it works! If you're going to hang with us, you're going to hang until the end."

Lenore bit her tongue into a smile as Neville shook water off his arms. "Sorry."

"If we wait until their backs are turned, we could probably run away."

She giggled. "No, let's do it."

He leaned away from her ear to look her in the eye. "Y-you want to?"

"Kind of, yeah. When's the last time you did something rebellious?"

"Other than smoke right now? Probably… never."

"No! That's right, you cut school to fight Death Eaters. That's about a thousand times more rebellious than anything I've ever done."

"And yet, this is eliciting more fear from me."

Lenore laughed. "We don't have to see each other in our underpants, if that's what you're worried about. Close your eyes and let me strip, then when I'm in the water, I'll turn my back and you can come in."

"O-o-okay," he stammered. "T-that would probably be best."

Neville turned his back to the water and heard Lenore begin peeling off her shoes and leggings. Fred and George gave an encouraging holler as Katie splashed them and told the pair to shut up. "Little miss prude has curves!" shouted Alicia.

With a flash, Neville felt Lenore's warm breath on his ear. He did not open his eyes, but he felt her bare stomach brush his arm. "I hate them," she whispered, before pulling away.

Neville only let go of his breath when he heard Lenore enter the water. He continued biting his lips in case he made a noise. Whether that noise would be from dread or pleasure, he had not yet decided. He took a nervous breath and unhooked his belt. He remained facing the other direction, in fear someone was watching him, but everyone else seemed to be involved in a splash war. The crinkle of his zipper made this feel even more real and he began to panic. He had never taken his clothes off in front of people before. Somehow, even with the relaxing effects of the Dragon's Hash, fear swallowed his body. He hated to imagine what it would be like if he wasn't high.

"Neville?" George called. "How's it going?"

"Don't bother him!" Lenore defended him. George yelped in shock and Neville heard a loud splash, indicating Lenore most likely knocked the twin off the inflatable inner tube he had conjured.

He was thankful for her distraction and he slipped out of his socks and shoes. Finally, his trousers fell to his knees, revealing his boxer shorts. He glanced down and immediately took a sharp breath. Of course today was the day he had selected the pair with about a hundred little parrots adorning the material. He decided to just get in the water with his shirt on. Nothing gave him more fear than being shirtless in public. He even had nightmares about it. He trudged into the water as Lenore's friends cheered for him. Lenore remained facing the other direction, submerged in water nearly up to her collarbone. When Neville was within a meter of her, she turned around and smiled. "You did it!"

"Y-yeah," he said shyly.

Her eyes travelled down. "You left your shirt on? Won't that be uncomfortable?"

"N-not as uncomfortable as being shirtless," he sighed.

She frowned and waded closer to him, then planted a kiss on his lips. "You're so fit."

He smiled just a little. "T-thanks. L-look at you."

"Oh. Yeah. Totally," she laughed. "This is the ugliest bra I own."

She stood up straight and leaned so her chest was above the water's surface. Neville caught sight of her lacy lavender bra and immediately turned his wide eyes towards the sky.

"Oh, sorry," she said, sinking back down in the water. "I wasn't thinking."

"I-i-it's okay," he said, his eyes still glued to the starry nighttime dome.

"You couldn't even see any boob. They're not big enough to be seen over the cups," she laughed.

"I-I-I saw enough."

She giggled again. "Sorry. I'm not in my right mind. If I had done that to Fred or George, they wouldn't have blinked twice. They'd just say, 'Yep, that's a ratty bra.'"

"What about us?" George called.

Lenore swam over to them. "Tell me, what do you think of this bra? Just the bra, don't comment on my body or I'll strangle you."

"Lenny," Fred gasped, "when have we ever commented on a woman's body?"

Lenore smiled. "Alright, you're right. You two are stand-up gentlemen." She stood up out of the water. "Does this bra look old to you?"

George and Fred looked at her as if they weren't seeing anything out of the ordinary. "It's a bit ratty, isn't it?" Fred asked.

"Is it your first bra ever?"

"Told you," Lenore laughed over to Neville.

She returned to his side and he whispered, "Actually, I think it was really pretty. The only bras I've ever seen are Gran's."

Lenore laughed so loud she had to cover her mouth with her hands. Neville blushed and smiled along with her. She could not stop shaking with laughter and she spun around so Neville could not see her uncontrollable facial expressions. In between gasps for air, she said, "I bet they're just plain white, right? And sacks, not structured cups?"

"How did you know?"

"It's the grandma uniform."

She turned back to him and laid her forehead on his chest, but kept her body away from him. Somehow, he felt even higher in the clouds with her touching him. "I'm not entirely sure if that was a joke or not, but it was still funny."

"I-it was a joke," he smiled. "But… also, not really. That was the first bra I've seen so close to me."

"Oh?" she raised her eyebrows and looked up at him. "Well, definitely don't associate this one with me. And for the love of Merlin, don't look at my underwear. They will look like your grandmother's."

"Don't look at mine, either," he said. "They look like something you'd get an uncle as a gag gift."

She peered down into the murky water. "Why, have they got cartoons on them?"

He nodded. "Little green and blue parrots."

She squealed. "Love it."

"Lenore, do you realize how weird it is for us to witness you flirting?" called George.

Lenore backed away from Neville and started to argue, until she saw her female friends nodding along. "Is… is it really?"

"Yes!" Katie laughed. "I've never seen you this touchy. Not even with girls, much less a boy."

She blushed. "Oops. I actually noticed that, too."

"Repulsive," Fred gagged. "Henry with a heart… that's one of the seven signs of the apocalypse, isn't it?"

"I once saw this girl laugh at a photo of a dead cat, she can't—"

"Hey!" she shouted over George and turned to Neville. "I'm not a sociopath! It was a selfie. This woman took a selfie of her with her dead cat and she was crying and her makeup was running and—"

"Lenore!" George shouted as he laughed with her. "You're cracking a smile right now! Bloody hell, it was a dead cat!"

"The cat had it's tongue out!" she felt her body shaking to contain a laugh. "She took a selfie with a dead cat! Oh god, I'm awful. Neville, I'm not insane! It was funny! You know I love animals, I'm a vegetarian for Merlin's sake! But it was funny!"

"I believe you," he smiled. "But it is a bit sadistic."

"Thank you!" George clapped.

"You laughed too, you fuckin' tosser!" she said as she splashed him.

"I did, but I don't have a potential fuck buddy to impress out here," George ushered over the water from his swim raft.

"You're right," Lenore said before Neville could react, "I don't see Angelina out here." She feigned searching for the girl by placing a hand over her forehead.

"Okay, Henry, you want to play like that?"

George splashed a large amount of water over her, soaking the dry part of her hair. She splashed him back and he returned the favor. Lenore hid behind Neville, who protested with a "Hey!" But when she accidentally backed her body roughly into his pelvis, he was too shocked to continue objecting. She cowered her frame behind his larger one, giggling and catching the small amount of splashes that reached around Neville. God, he had never seen her prettier than in this moment. She looked so vulnerable with her hair wet, but something in her smile was powerful. She was ecstatic and it was contagious, as a smile crossed his lips.

She moved out from behind him and over to Katie, who splashed Fred and George in defense of her best mate. Neville floated in the water, his feet planted on the rocky lakebed, staring glassy-eyed up at the stars. He was not sure how much time passed. Time was only a concept, an illusion to him. Each moment could have been thirty seconds for two hours, he had no idea. He laid back and thought of nothing except the stars.

After a while, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He glanced to his right and saw Lenore greeting him with a smile. "You look so stoned."

He laughed. "I… I feel stoned."

She smiled and wrapped her arm in his. Nobody else in the group was paying attention to them. Fred and Katie were in a swim race, Alicia and Leanne were now in a different area of the lake with George, who was dazed on his raft.

"How do you feel?" Neville asked.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

She laughed nervously. "I feel like snogging you. Like, a lot. But I'm not going to."

His mouth grew dry. "Y-y-you…? O-oh."

She giggled. "I think that's a side effect of the euphoria."

"I-I think so, too."

"I think of want to try it," she said after a moment. "Just to see if it feels different."

"We… we can."

Lenore never broke eye contact with Neville. "Okay."

He reached around to pull her close, but the second his hands touched her bare ribs, he retreated. "S-s-sorry! I forgot."

She smiled brightly. "You're so nice."

"Y-yeah?"

"Yeah. But I don't care. Put your hands on my back."

Neville obeyed and her soft skin brushed his fingertips. She kept some distance between their bodies and leaned in to kiss him. This was all too surreal. He was high, in a lake, past curfew, half-naked, kissing Lenore Henry. If someone told him at the end of last term that this would be his reality, he could have been utterly confused.

Yet, here he was.

Her tongue touched his lip and he knew that meant she wanted in his mouth. Their tongues danced around each other slowly, languidly, as she rested her arms on his shoulders. Her forearms loosely held his head and she stood on the very tips of her toes. At once, her inhibitions seemed to fly out of her mind. She pressed their bodies together, expelling any water between them. Neville felt everything amplified. Her bare stomach pressed into his shirt buttons and his fingers gripped the fleshier area to the side of her spine. Her leg bent at the knee and her inner thigh applied pressure to his hip. Bloody hell, kissing her somehow felt even better when he was high.

He was not nervous. At all. Even with her only in her undergarments. He tried to make himself worry about her lack of clothes, but he could not. All he could think about was himself being swept up in the clouds and carried away by Lenore's beautiful aura.

Lenore let go of him and exhaled. "Holy shit."

"You're telling me," he sighed.

"Much better than drunk kissing," she said. "Well, also it's the person."

Words spilled out of Neville's mouth before he could stop them. "We'll have to try drunk kissing for a fair comparison."

She laughed. "Alright. I'm not a big fan of drinking, though."

"Are you a big fan of drugs now?"

"Nah," she said. "This was fun, but I'm not going to make it a habit."

Neville started to agree, but he was cut off by Katie's voice.

"Hey!" Katie said. "It's past midnight! We better head back."

Neville looked lazily down at his watch. She was right, it was quarter-past twelve. He stood up at once. He had never been out this late past curfew.

"Turn around," Lenore commanded him.

He could not see her in the dark and he knew she was now nowhere near him, but he obeyed and shifted his body towards the other side of the lake. In the moonlight, he saw a fish jump over the water. He watched the water ripple and lost himself in time once more.

"Alright," said Lenore. "Go ahead if you want to get out. I'm not looking."

Neville pulled himself out of the water and used his wand to dry his clothes. He pulled on his trousers and belt, then found Lenore. She smiled at him when he met her eyes. "I'm corrupting you, aren't I?"

"Nah," he grinned. "Seamus already offers me drugs and I decline it. I would've said yes eventually, just to try it."

"And we're out so late. Pansy going to be mad at me."

"Will she write you up?"

Lenore shook her head. "Probably not. She prefers to give me lectures. Can you tell I'm high?"

He examined her. "I don't think so. Maybe just don't make too much eye contact with anyone. It should be wearing off soon."

"It already is. It's not as intense as before."

The pair followed the others into the castle, via Fred and George's secret entrance. Everyone gave a warm goodbye to the twins, including hugs and waves, and they were off. The secret corridor dumped them off right at the Gryffindor entrance.

"Well… shit," Lenore said.

"Double shit," Leanne added.

"They didn't realize we're not all Gryffindor," Katie rolled her eyes. "Annie, you're on this same floor, just down a-ways. Lenny's got to go down four floors and to the basement without being seen."

"Want me to walk with you?" Neville asked. "I can use that invisibility spell you used on me that one time."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," Lenore argued.

"No," he said, "I wouldn't mind. At all."

She thought a moment. "Alright, if you really don't mind."

"I don't."

They gave kind goodnights to Katie, Alicia, and Leanne and headed on their way down to the dungeon. Neville placed a spell on them that did not make them invisible, but rather helped them blend into their surroundings, like chameleons. Lenore held his hand to make sure he didn't get lost without being able to see her. They whispered the entire time, discussing their night and his experience with her friends. When they reached the Slytherin entrance, Neville paused and searched the area. He removed the spell him himself first, then Lenore. As she smiled as him, they heard a commotion behind them.

Before he got a chance to place their chameleon charm back over their bodies, Odette Trujillo and Theodore Nott appeared from around the corner. Both stopped in their tracks. Theodore looked like a mess. Even in the dim lighting, they could see his sunken eyes and drooping face, which shifted to the ground immediately after making eye contact with Lenore. He did not say a word, but instead he placed his hand on the stone wall entrance, whispered the password, " _Edmund Necromancer_ ," and disappeared inside. Odette stayed outside with Lenore, who gave her a friendly smile.

"What's wrong with him?"

Odette shook her head. "I'll tell you later. What are you two doing out this late?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Wait," Neville interrupted. "Did he say the password was ' _Edmund Necromancer_?' The famous serial killer? Who targeted muggleborns?"

Lenore nodded. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

"That's awful."

Odette chimed in. "Sucks even more for the couple of muggleborns in Slytherin. How do you think they feel?"

"H-how do you feel as half-bloods?"

"Pretty bad," Odette said.

"Yeah, kind of terrible," Lenore agreed.

"The password to Gryffindor right now is a type of candy. Not a murdering blood-purist."

"Welcome to Slytherin!" Odette said.

"Where you'll find racists and blood-purists mixed in with the people who just want to be successful in life!" added Lenore.

"Racists, too?"

"Hell yes," said Lenore. "Tons of racism. Pansy doesn't like black people. She makes fun of Blair's braids all the time. She used to do that to Angelina, too."

"And when people find out I'm not white, they don't like me anymore," said Odette.

Lenore nodded. "Oh yeah, all the time. I can name you at least three Slytherins right now who don't talk to Odette because she's Latina."

The blonde roommate nodded. "I'm Cuban, in case you didn't know. I wasn't born over there, though, my grandparents and parents were all refugees, first to Miami, then to the U.K. I was born here, in a little Latino enclave in London, and I speak Spanish at home."

"See, that's so interesting, though," Neville said. "My family has lived in the exact same house for six generations. That's boring. All it says is none of us leave."

"Well, your family didn't have to escape communists," Lenore said.

"And your family wasn't escaping poverty, like Lenore's grandparents."

"Your family escaped poverty?" he asked.

"It's not that dramatic," she waved her hands. "Not like Odette's, who feared for their lives. My grandma didn't finish her A-levels. They kicked her out of school at sixteen for being pregnant and unmarried. My grandpa was older than her and on his way to becoming a mechanic. At the time, America had so many opportunities for factory work and healthcare and affordable mortgages. The U.K. was still recovering from the second World War in places. My grandparents and mom were sponsored by a great uncle who already lived there, they moved to Michigan, and Grandpa worked on an automobile assembly line for years. It was just better over there for people in poverty at the time. Now, however, it's definitely better over here."

Odette nodded. "My grandparents didn't flee to the U.S. until the seventies. It was better in the U.K. even then, because of a U.S. recession. That's how I ended up being born here."

Neville's eyes were wide the entire time. Everyone's life was so much more interesting than his.

"Why are we standing in the hall discussing our family history?" Lenore questioned.

"I don't remember," Odette laughed. "Say goodnight to Neville and we can sit in the common room and I'll tell you about Theodore."

"Alright," she turned her head. "Goodnight, Nev."

"Goodnight," he grinned. "I really did have a great time."

She smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Odette raised her eyebrows, but looked amused. As they two girls whispered the password, Pansy's voice could be heard from inside the common room, "And just WHAT are you two doing out this late?"

Lenore rolled her eyes and glanced back to Neville. He smiled reassuringly at her, before placing the chameleon spell over himself and sneaking his way back into Gryffindor Tower at nearly one in the morning.


	28. Chapter 28: Slytherins Revealed

**Thanks to jinglepinglepie and for the reviews! Y'all are great. Thanks to all the new favs/follows. This is an extra long chapter for you all to enjoy, complete with some Dean pouring his heart out, Neville sick in bed, and Lenore's roommates making their usual innuendos. Make sure to leave a review! xx**

 **...**

Yet again this evening, Dean and Seamus sat alone. Lenore had not caught sight of Neville in two days. Thursday, he was absent from their three shared classes. Friday, they had no classes together, but she still did not see him at meal times. She had meant to ask Dean on Thursday where the boy was, but it slipped her mind when Odette began recounting tales of her adventures with Cho Chang in the courtyard.

When dinner was over, Lenore excused herself from Odette and chased Dean down as he exited the hall.

"Dean!" Lenore called across the Great Hall.

The boy stopped in his tracks and met Lenore in the middle of the doorway.

"Hey," she gave a short wave in greeting, "where's Neville been these past two days?"

"Oh, he's sick," Dean replied, looking a little embarrassed. "Shit. I was supposed to tell you, but I got distracted. Sorry. Yeah, he's got something real bad. Vomiting, fever, sweating. He's about as white as a ghost, last I saw him."

Her eyes widened. "No way, is he okay?"

"I think he is better now. He spent the last night in the infirmary, actually."

She gasped. "Is he still there?"

"No, he's up in our room. He looks better, but still kind of terrible."

"Can I see him? Or can you ask him if he minds seeing me? It's just, we were supposed to go on a date tonight and—"

"Oh shit, that's right! That's what I was supposed to tell you! He wanted me to inform you that he won't be able to go on a date."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks. Are you okay? You seem off lately."

"I'm fine!" argued Dean, as he glanced away from Lenore. She took note of his hesitation.

"Alright… I just haven't seen much of you lately."

"Yeah," he breathed. "I'm just… Ginny and I are together a lot. Happily together a lot."

Doubt still lingered on Lenore's brain, but she decided Dean was capable of handling any troubles. "Okay. Well, anyway, can you take me to see Neville? I can wait outside the door while you ask him if he wants to see me. Has he eaten anything these past few days?"

"He doesn't have much of an appetite, as far as I know," shrugged Dean. "Hasn't eaten or drank much of anything at all."

"Dean! When you're sick, you're supposed to get plenty of fluids! He need to drink something."

"You come tell him that, then," he waved her towards the corridor.

"Give me a minute."

She reached over to the Hufflepuff table, over a group of young kids, and grabbed one of their goblets from an empty space.

"Hey!" one protested.

"You Slytherins think you can just take whatever!" shouted another.

"Oh shhh," she rolled her eyes. "There's nobody using it."

She poured a glass of pumpkin juice into the metal container and followed Dean's amused face up to the Gryffindor tower, careful not to spill the light brown liquid. Lenore glanced to Dean's face a few times during the silent journey. He kept his eyes on the ground and stayed quiet, which was so unlike him. Last year, and every year before, he was the type of guy with a bounce in his step, his eyes straight ahead as he beamed at passerbys. This year, however, he was far from himself. Lenore finally decided to ask him about it.

"Dean, are you okay?" she said gently.

He seemed to snap out of a daze. "Yeah! Fine. Why do you ask?"

"You look sad. You've looked sad for nearly a month."

His fake smile faltered. "I… I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

"Is something wrong between you and Ginny?"

He continued to avoid her gaze. He was silent for a long time, before he said, "It's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"That… never mind."

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "That you get to be with Neville."

"Why?" she asked. "Do you want to be with him?"

"No," he shook his head in annoyance. "It's not fair that you both fancy each other and you get to be together."

Lenore furrowed her brow and parted her lips. "What are you talking about? You've got a girlfriend, too."

"That's… true… but…"

"But what?"

Dean sighed. "How long have you fancied Neville?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I fancied him as a friend for a while. Is that a thing?"

Dean did not hide his feelings. "That sounds dumb."

Lenore laughed. "Okay, geez. Well, it should be a thing."

He turned left down a corridor. "It sounds like something girls say when they want a bloke to treat her like a girlfriend, but she doesn't want to actually date him."

"Dean," her voice grew harsher, "now that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Boys shouldn't treat girls nicely because they want to fuck. Everyone should treat each other nicely because we're all human beings who deserve kindness. Neville wasn't nice to me because he wanted to snog me, he was nice because he's genuinely a kind person. That's why I'm dating him. That's why I realized I wanted to date him. And to answer your question, I've valued him for a long time, but I think I've only fancied him for four or five months. Since about late May. Why do you want to know?"

He was quiet a moment. "And if he didn't like you back, would you have moved on?"

Lenore stopped dead in her tracks and stood in front of him, blocking his path. She gathered her words and finally said, "Dean, tell me why you're acting so strange lately. And don't lie, because I think I already know."

"I-I'm not acting weird!" he stuttered. He cringed as the words exited his mouth.

Lenore's voice dropped to a low whisper. "You're not over Margaux, are you?"

"Lenore, stop being ridiculous."

He attempted to sidestep her, but she placed a hand on his chest. "Dean, I know you don't fancy Ginny."

"Who made you the Fancy Police?" he demanded as he gently pushed her arm off himself. "Leave me alone about this."

"You're the one who asked me!" she yelled. "You brought this up! You want to talk about it, you just don't want me telling you exactly how you feel, because it scares you!"

Dean was quiet. He stared down at his feet. At once, he grabbed Lenore's wrist. "Come here."

He dragged her into an empty classroom and he sat down on a desk. Lenore stood above him, placed the goblet of pumpkin juice on the desk next to Dean, and folded her arms in defiance.

"You're right, okay? God damn it, you're right. I don't fancy Ginny. But I want to. I want to fancy someone else. I just don't understand why I can't."

Lenore bit her cheek. "Do you still fancy Margaux?"

He sighed. "I… I don't know. Maybe."

"Dean," she whined, "you can't do this to Ginny."

"She doesn't care."

"What do you mean she doesn't care?"

Dean winced. "She fancies Harry."

"Wait—"

"Don't judge us, Lenore!"

"No!" she exclaimed. "I'm just trying to work this out. You like Margaux. She likes Harry. But you're dating… each other?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Dean shook his head. "I think… I think it's because I want to get over Margaux and because Ginny wants to make Harry jealous. Or she just likes having a boyfriend. That is the confusing part. I'm… I'm not sure if this is a real relationship or not."

Lenore scowled in confusion. "How can you not know?"

"We… we started out fake dating. To make Harry jealous. And… kind of Margaux, too, but I quickly realized that wouldn't work. And then suddenly she was asking me on what seemed to be real dates and I keep saying yes and I think she fancies me in a certain way, but not—"

"She friend-fancies you."

"Lenore," he rolled his eyes, "damn it, you're fucking right."

She smirked with satisfaction. "Do you two snog?"

"Sometimes."

"She 'friend-fancies' you and 'friends with benefits' you. You're being played, Dean, unless you want that, too."

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I don't know what I want."

"I know what you want."

"Please, inform me."

She sat down on the desk next to him. "You want Margaux."

He clenched his jaw. "Yeah, well, I can't have her, can I?"

"No," Lenore shook her head. "So, what you want is somebody to replace her. There's plenty of other girls out there. Start with Ginny."

"I don't fancy Ginny. I don't even like her. To be honest, she's a whiny little baby who only cares about herself. I don't see how Margaux is friends with her. I want to tear my hair out anytime she talks."

"So just snog her."

Dean tilted his head and raised his brows. "Well… she actually is pretty good at that. And I don't have to hear her voice."

"You don't like her voice?"

"God no. It's like nails on a chalkboard. You know what Neville told me once that was actually quite brilliant?"

"What?"

"He said you should fall in love with a person's voice first, because if you don't, everything they say will annoy you."

"He said that?"

"Yep."

"Aww," she pouted, "he likes the sound of my voice?"

"Loves it," Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't you see the way he looks at you when you talk?"

She beamed. "Well, I agree with him. You have to like the sound of a person's voice."

"I agree, too, and you're lucky he likes that broken accent voice of yours."

She elbowed him. "Hush. I sound fine. You seemed to like it on Margaux."

"I'm surprised your eardrums are still in tact after living in a house with Margaux all these years."

"Oh god, it's my entire family. All we do is yell."

Dean smiled. "Mine, too, especially my sisters. My dad isn't really into yelling."

"Mine definitely is."

He nodded and the conversation dipped into a lull. Lenore spoke up. "Look, Dean, you either need to get over her and keep dating Ginny or you need to dump Ginny and keep pining."

"Which one do you think I should do?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know. If I were you, I would keep dating Ginny. You're young, you need to explore other people. I didn't date before Neville, but I snogged and flirted, you know? You need to do that. You haven't flirted with anyone since you've fancied Margaux. You need to have fun. And even if at the end of the day after flirting and snogging, you still fancy Margaux, well, at least you didn't waste your time entirely."

He soaked up her words, then whispered, "Lenore? Do you… do think she could ever fancy me back?"

Lenore thought a moment. "Yes. I think she could. I don't think it would be hard for her to fancy you. She friend-fancies you right now."

Dean groaned. "Quit using that phrase."

She giggled. "Alright, fine. I don't want to get your hopes up, but she's in the same place I was right before I started fancying Neville. Just treat her kindly. Pay attention to her, don't try to get her to pay attention to you. And Dean, I'm serious, you need to experience other people. Stick with Ginny for a little while, just to get yourself in the swing of things, then break up and start snogging any girl who will let you."

He nodded. "I can do that."

"I'm sure you can," she said as she patted him on the shoulder. "Now, if you're done, I'd really like to make sure Neville isn't dying."

"Oh! Yeah!"

Dean jumped off the desk, but halted before he opened the door. "Hey, thanks."

"For what?"

"For the advice."

"Oh! No problem."

He led Lenore down the hall and into the Gryffindor Tower. They traipsed up the stone staircase, until Dean pushed open the door to his room. Lenore waited in the hallway, but she could hear their conversation through the open door.

"Neville," Dean hissed, "are you awake?"

Sheet rustled as Neville seemingly turned over. "Unfortunately," he croaked. This voice was hoarse and sore-sounding, as if he had been coughing recently. Lenore bit her lip in worry.

Dean placed his backpack on the hook above his dresser and removed his tie. "How you feeling, mate?"

Neville sighed. "Like death."

"That's not great," he laughed. "Would it make you feel better if Lenore were here?"

Neville seemed to panic, as Lenore heard him attempt to sit up. "Why? Where is she? She isn't here is she? Why can't I see her? Dean, am I going blind? Why is the room spinning?"

Now she could gauge exactly how ill he was. He was not in his right mind.

"Lay still!" Dean hurried over to him. "And calm down. She's outside but she doesn't have to come in if you don't want her to."

Neville settled back into his bed and whimpered. "I'd like to see her, but don't let her see me. Please."

Dean's footsteps grew closer to the door. He propped it open for Lenore. As she entered, she noticed Neville laying flat on his mattress, the sheets and comforter covering his entire body and head. She took a seat on Seamus's bed to his left.

"Hi, Nev," she said softly. "How are you?"

"Not great," he moaned into his pillow.

As he spoke, his sheets moved with him.

"Is it comfortable under there?" she asked.

"No."

"I'm sorry," she stood. "I can leave."

"No!" he said quickly. "You… you can stay. I'm sorry."

She returned to the seated position. "Don't apologize. I brought you some pumpkin juice. I'll set it here on Seamus's dresser. Are you thirsty? Dean said you haven't been eating or drinking."

"No. I don't want to throw up again."

"Neville, you have to drink something. You'll feel better, trust me."

He let out a noise of pain she had never heard before. She glanced up at Dean, who also appeared startled. The sound was like nothing she had ever heard. It was not loud, but it conveyed discomfort and anguish in one short "ugh."

"Honey, are you okay?"

"No."

After another peek towards Dean, she removed herself from Seamus's mattress and kneeled by Neville's bed. She placed a hand on his back and began to rub large, soft circles over the sheets. "Tell me what's wrong," she whispered.

Neville seemed to have tensed up. Finally, he relaxed when he realized he could not spare the effort. "Everything hurts."

"Like what?"

He was silent, but she could hear him breathing weirdly.

"Neville, are you breathing okay? I can feel how irregular your breaths are."

He adjusted his inhalations, but it quickly fell back into the old, sporadic pattern.

"Take this sheet off your face, please," she begged. "I don't think you're getting enough air."

"I'd rather suffocate. It'd be a sweet relief."

She gripped the sheet on his back. "Neville, please. I promise you, you have nothing to be worried about. I look terrible when I'm sick. I'm sure you'll be just as handsome as you are normally."

He hesitated. "I hope to Merlin I look better normally than I do right now."

"Just take the covers off your head. You don't have to face me."

Slowly, he yanked the covers off his face, but remained laying on his stomach, his head turned the other direction. Lenore could see water droplets beading up on the back of his neck. His shirt collar was soaked in sweat.

"I'll be right back," she said.

Neville did not move, nor reply. She hurried into the bathroom, grabbed the first hand towel she saw, and ran it under the sink. With her wand, she charmed it to be icy cold. She kneeled on the ground again and placed the cloth on the back of his neck. She expected him to flinch at the pure chill of the towel, but he did not seem to mind.

"Lenore, I'm so cold," he whimpered.

"From the towel? Or everywhere?"

"What towel?"

Yep, he was out of it. She touched a hand to his t-shirt under the sheets. His skin was burning up. "Here," she said. "I use this heating spell to help me with cramps. It'll work on you."

She lifted up his sheets just a tiny bit and aimed her wand underneath as she muttered the spell. Neville sighed as his surroundings grew cozier. Lenore tucked his sheets under his body. As she worked on his far side, he whispered, "We were supposed to go out tonight, weren't we?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "But don't worry about it."

He moved his head into the pillow. "No, this can't be a date."

"It's not a date," she laughed. "Oh, but you need to drink! I'm going to force you to drink this pumpkin juice. Dean, can you hand me the cup?"

The Gryffindor obeyed and crossed the room to hand her the goblet which sat on Seamus's dresser.

"Neville," she said, as she brushed the hair away from the side of his face. "Drink this."

He shook his head, his face planted firmly in the pillow.

"Neville, please. You'll feel better, I promise."

Another shake of the head. Lenore kneeled beside his bed. "I'm going to force you upright if you don't take this cup and drink it."

He remained completely still. She placed her lips near his ear and whispered lovingly, "Nev, please? Please do this for me."

She placed a gentle kiss on his earlobe.

"No!" he exclaimed. "Please don't! I don't want you to get sick, too."

"Then sit up and drink this or I'll do it again."

Gradually, he flipped over on his back, dragging his pillow with him. Lenore helped him sit up, but he kept the pillow over his face.

"Put the pillow down," she urged him.

"I'm going to look so bad, Len."

"Neville," she said as she rolled her eyes. She yanked the pillow away from his face and revealed his sickly skin. His face was the strangest color of white she had ever seen. His lips were puffy and red compared to the rest of his skin. His brown eyes looked so tired as he stared down at his sheets. She swallowed once and regained her senses. "You look fine, I promise. Drink this."

He took the goblet out of her hands, avoiding eye contact, and drank a couple sips.

"More," she prodded him.

With a moment of hesitation, he finally downed the entire goblet.

"You need more," she said as she took the cup from him. She conjured water into the cup and he finally made eye contact with her.

"I knew you would get the hang of conjuring," he smiled weakly.

His appearance shocked her once more. His eyes were sunken, as if he had been punched. She grinned. "Thanks. As long as it doesn't poison you."

He glanced down to the cup, then back at her. "It's okay. The aurors wouldn't be able to tell whether it was the poison or my illness that killed me."

She laughed. "I guess not. What did Madame Pomphrey say was wrong with you?"

"Troll Throat."

"What's that?" she asked, mildly disgusted.

"Wizarding disease. It spreads through fluids. So don't drink off me."

"Don't drink off you?" she exclaimed. "Neville, your tongue was in my mouth just a few days ago!"

He looked guilty. "I know. I'm so sorry, Len. You don't feel sick, do you?"

"No! Not yet, at least. Great."

He stared down at the sheets. "I'm really sorry."

"It's alright." She placed a hand on his back and rubbed his t-shirt. He was sweaty, but she did not care at the moment. "I guess it could have been me who gave it to you."

Dean spoke up. "Oliver had it a couple weeks ago."

She gasped and looked at Neville. "Oh shit, what if he gave it to me and I gave it to you?"

"But you're not sick," he pointed out.

She shook her head. "I've always had a good immune system. I was feeling extremely tired last week, but I thought it was from all the schoolwork. It was me. I gave you this. I'm so sorry."

His tired eyes managed to hold her gaze. "No, no, it's alright, really. There's plenty of ways I could have gotten this, don't blame yourself. Especially over something that twat did to you."

Her intense eyes softened and she gave him a kind smile. "Thanks."

He gave her hand two short pats and then closed his eyes.

"Neville," she said. "I lied. You look awful. Not in an unattractive way. You just look so sick. I'm sorry."

"I knew I looked awful," he smiled. "I knew you lied. And really, Len, it's okay. I'd… I'd get sick every time we kissed, if that's what it took. It's worth it."

Her pout transformed into a grin. She continued to rub his back as she placed her cheek against his shoulder.

"I'm going downstairs," Dean gagged. "You two are gross."

"Don't pretend like I wasn't forced to see your tongue halfway down Ginny's throat the other day," Lenore said.

Neville laughed as Dean rolled his eyes and left the room. As his laugh died down, he turned his head away from Lenore and coughed violently into his elbow. Lenore conjured him some more water and he gulped it down between gasps. At once he hopped from his bed and scurried to the bathroom with a quick, "I'll be back."

Lenore sat down on his bed and waited for him to return. She hoped he was okay. He most likely just had to use the toilet, but he could be vomiting or worse. She heard the sink faucet running after about a minute, so she assumed he was fine. After a few moments of silence when the water was shut off, Neville called, "Len?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you… can you come here?"

Lenore paused at the closed door. "Neville? Are you okay?"

He opened the door for her. "Yeah, don't worry."

Lenore glanced around at the Gryffindor bathrooms, which were almost exactly like her own in Slytherin. Two toilet stalls and two shower stalls, with three sinks under a large mirror. Neville stood in front of the middle sink, staring at himself in the mirror. "Why is my eye doing this?"

Lenore stepped closer to him and stood on her tip toes. Neville's eye twitched every so often, but it was a violent twitch, as if he was blinking in rapid succession. Her eyes widened. "Oh my god, does that hurt?"

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't even know it was happening until I saw it."

"It just started doing that. I would have noticed. Hopefully it's because you're tired."

"Tired?"

"Yeah. My eye twitches when I'm tired."

Neville continued to stare at himself in the mirror. He lifted up the back of his grey t-shirt and attempted to fan out the sweat stains. He grabbed a brush on the counter and fixed his hair, then squirted himself with a bit of cologne.

"Neville," she laughed and placed her hand over the bottle as he tried for another squirt, "what are you doing?"

He put the cologne back down, then reached for a bottle of mouthwash, completely ignoring her questions. He swished the mint rinse around in his mouth, then spit it in the sink. "I know I look and smell terrible."

"No!" she said. "I don't look my best today either. It's fine."

He slowly turned his gaze on her. Today she wore minimal makeup, none on her eyes, and glasses. Her hair did look good this evening, she would admit that, but other than that, not much was working in her favor.

"You're beautiful," he said quietly.

Her stomach flipped and she beamed. "Thanks. So are you."

"I'm beautiful?"

"Yeah," she grinned. "Come on, let's get you back in bed. You look and smell fine."

She placed a hand on his back, took his arm, and returned him to his mattress. She made him wait a moment as she _scourgify_ -ed his bedsheets to reset their temperature and clean any sweat or miscellaneous stains. He thanked her as she also performed a spell to tighten his bottom sheet to the mattress and tuck his comforter in at the foot. She pointed to his shirt. "Do you want a new shirt?"

"Oh," he looked down. "Yes. Definitely."

She touched her hands on a dresser drawer. "In here?"

He reached around her. "I-I'll get it. But thank you."

Lenore turned around as he swapped into an olive colored long sleeve t-shirt. He climbed under the covers and Lenore took a seat on Seamus's bed once more. Neville did not lay back, rather he sat straight up, staring down at his hands.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He picked at a thread on his shirt sleeve. "Yeah. I just… I can't even explain how much my neck hurts."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry. It's fine."

She removed herself from Seamus's bed and sat on the edge of Neville's. "Can I massage it, like you did for my hand?"

"I-i-if you want," he stammered. "T-t-that's really nice."

Lenore removed her shoes and crawled to the center of Neville's bed. She knelt behind him and clasped her hands on his shoulders. Her fingers dug into his t-shirt and he furrowed his brow. "Where does it hurt the most?" she asked.

"Right at the base of my head."

Her hands moved to his neck and she pressed her thumbs in a circular motion on either side of his spinal cord. "Like here?"

"Yes. Wow, that feels good."

He closed his eyes and leaned into her movements. Lenore's finger worked his tight muscles as he sighed.

"Did you sleep on it wrong last night?"

He nodded. "I had to sleep sitting up because of the coughing. When i woke up, my neck was bent over the metal headboard of the hospital bed."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, more than ouch."

"How did you sleep last night?"

"Madame Pomphrey gave me a sleeping potion, so actually not bad."

"Why did she send you back to your room today? You still don't seem to be feeling better."

"I'm better than I was yesterday," he said. "Like, a lot better. I've rarely coughed today and my fever is down."

"You were worse yesterday?"

He nodded.

"Aww, honey, I'm sorry."

Neville was quiet a moment, before he whispered, "'Honey?'"

Lenore cringed. "Yeah, I call everybody honey. But if that's weird, I'll stop."

"No," he interjected. "No, I like it."

Lenore stopped her movement, sat beside him, and gave the back of his neck one short peck. "This shirt looks good on you, you know."

Neville glanced at his front, having seemingly forgotten what he was wearing. "O-oh, thank you."

"It makes your eyes really pretty. You've got a tiny bit of green behind the brown and this olive color brings out the undertones."

He turned his eyes on her and she grinned. "I love brown eyes, but yours are especially nice."

"T-thanks," he smiled faintly, before closing his eyes.

He did not seem able to remain vertical, as his torso swayed in tiny circles. Lenore placed a hand on his back to steady him. Neville stared down at his bedsheets for quite some time, his eyes fixated on a single crinkle in the otherwise smooth, red comforter. Lenore's hand circled his back reassuringly. "Why don't you lay down?" she suggested.

He turned his head and shifted his gaze to her face. Behind his eyes was a type of tired Lenore had never seen before. His expression screamed exhaustion as his sunken eyes languidly blinked.

"You're sitting on my bed," he said quietly.

She glanced down, a little startled. "Yeah."

"And you're rubbing my back."

Her eyes remained on his for a while. He needed to fall asleep. His mind was not as sharp as it usually was. Lenore's hand stopped its motion. "Yeah."

His eyes never left hers. This felt strangely intimate to Lenore, despite their innocent intentions. The pure raw emotion behind his eyes made her stomach churn.

"You must realize how surreal this is for me," he breathed.

"What?"

"You. Being this caring towards me. It's great. But scary."

"Why scary?"

He blinked his long lashes once. "Isn't it always a bit scary when our dreams become reality?"

"Okay, Socrates, you need some sleep," she laughed. "Don't get all philosophical on me."

She pulled him down by the back of his shirt and he obliged. Inside, she was reeling with emotion. Neville had dreamed about this relationship. She meant more to him that she had previously thought. It was true, the beginning of relationships always seem the scariest. It takes time for the insecurities to become complacency, the awkward silence to become comforting peace, and the doubts to become trust.

Neville turned to the side and nestled his face into the pillow, interrupting her thoughts. "I'm not tired anymore," he croaked.

"You look like you're about to pass out," she giggled.

"I wish."

"How can I help?"

He thought a moment. "Talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah. Your voice will put me to sleep."

She punched him lightly on the arm and he gasped. "No! Sorry! I just meant I-I fall asleep best when there's a bit of noise. S-sorry, Len, you know I didn't mean it like that."

She giggled. "Alright, I'll drone on about something and you fall asleep."

"Thank you," he sighed. "I appreciate you."

"Thanks," she grinned. "Dean told me you like the sound of my voice."

"H-he told you that?"

"Yep."

"Well… great."

She smiled. "I'll tell you a story my American grandma would always tell me."

He nodded into his pillow. Her voice quieted and became soft and melodious, instead of her normal shrieks of amusement.

"There once was a little leprechaun named Thomas. Thomas was a great leprechaun. He loved his job and his family and life, in general. But the other leprechauns didn't like Thomas. He was too nice. 'You keep giving away our gold!' they would shout at him. You see, Thomas didn't like to trick people in staying away from his gold. He valued hard work and intelligence and he thought if people came close enough to finding the treasure at the end of the rainbow, they should be rewarded. But the other leprechauns didn't like that. They were greedy. They wanted all the gold to themselves."

Neville adjusted himself on his pillow and nuzzled the back of his head onto the side of Lenore's upper thigh. She stopped herself from taking a sharp inhalation, as she realized he did not know what he was doing. She could hear him lightly snoring already. Most likely, his grandmother would sit with him like this and talk to him. Everything about the act was innocent and she knew he merely wanted the comfort of physical contact, so she continued her story after only skipping a single beat.

"One day, all the leprechauns hatched a plan to trick Thomas into a trap. They told Thomas to meet them under the brightest rainbow Ireland had ever seen. The evil leprechauns tied poor Thomas to a pot of gold to teach him a lesson. They would lure a human to the gold and give them two options: take the gold for themselves, or spare Thomas's life. The leprechauns were cynics, you see. They knew humans were greedy, just like them. Only poor Thomas was optimistic someone would save him. The leprechauns lured a small child, a boy named Charles, and gave him the options: save Thomas or keep the gold. Thomas had prepared an entire speech to beg for his life, but he did not need it. At once, little Charles selected Thomas. The boy and his leprechaun grew up to travel Ireland, exacting revenge and stealing as much gold as possible. They gave the gold away to everyone in poverty and everyone lived happily ever after."

It was a terrible story, but it always made Lenore happy. She could almost hear the sound of her grandmother's voice echo out of her own mouth. Neville stirred in his sleep at the quiet, so she decided to just keep talking. She dropped her voice to a low whisper. "Of course, my dad says that story is dumb. He told me it sounds like communist propaganda, but he also says that about Dr. Seuss books. I wasn't allowed to read Dr. Seuss as a child because he was a socialist and my dad didn't like that. He's a little weird about that stuff. By 'that stuff' I mean politics. We get into it a lot. Lots of fights over the summer on the new Minister of Magic. I love politics and I've told you I want to be a news reporter. I'm really opinionated, but I can see both sides of almost any issue. That's kind of a problem, because I don't get mad at nearly enough people for their purist views. I overhear so much awful stuff, not only from Slytherins, and I wish I could say something but I just don't. I'm not like everyone else in Dumbledore's Army. I wasn't ever brave enough to actually utilize anything we learned, but… maybe one day I will be."

Lenore rattled on like that for quite a long time. At this point, Neville was sound asleep, his head curled into her hip and snoring lightly. She attempted to remove herself from his bed and leave him to sleep, but as soon as she moved, he shifted so that he was touching her once more. She leaned back into his headboard and continued talking, more for herself than him. She told him everything about her life, and she knew she would have to tell him again when he was awake, but for now, she simply liked talking.

It had been a lonely summer without Raquel, her muggle friend who passed away, there to discuss her problems. Raquel would have loved Neville, Lenore just knew it. They would have gotten along great. Raquel was a little less shy than Neville, but she too could be quiet at times. Now Lenore was sad. She wished Raquel could have met Neville. She wished a lot of things actually. She wished Raquel would have gotten more years on this planet, so she could have those kids, Wally and Arnold, she always dreamed about. Or the career as a scientist working to discover new cures for breast cancer. They had planned to be bridesmaids at each other's weddings, having already promised their sisters the Maid of Honor position. Now that would never happen.

But it was okay. Lenore took each day one step at a time. She glanced down at Neville and placed her hand softly on his shoulder. He coughed after a moment, but fell back to relaxation and peace. They had only been dating for four weeks, but it felt like they had known each other for their entire lives. Which, they practically had.

"Do you remember the first time you talked to me?" whispered Lenore. She continued, knowing full-well he could not hear her. "How completely terrified you were to be in a group project with a Slytherin? We were only fourteen. Well, I was. You would've been thirteen. And do you remember how bossy I was to you? I was so mean. I told you you weren't doing the project right and you got so flustered that you handed it off to me. I apologized to you, later though. I'm still sorry. I was having a bad day and you were just so shy, I had no idea you were anxious about Potions. I mean, I knew Snape was mean to you, but I never would have guessed it had that much of a psychological affect on you. You're okay now, from what I can tell, but I'm sure it still stresses you out. I'm surprised you could ever fancy me after I was so rude to you. I know you didn't start to fancy me until nearly a year and a half after that, but… I really did try to change."

She bit her lip. "After that first semester of third year, I decided to be nicer. It was actually the look on your face as I glared at you that made me want to change. I wasn't mean, necessarily, but I was impatient and rude. I think I've fixed that. Sometimes I think back to our third and fourth year, when we were kind of friends but kind of not. I can't believe we're the same people. When I think about the first time we spoke, when we both got so frustrated that it became a competition to see who would cry from exasperation first—neither of us actually cried, thank God— to now. To a couple weeks ago when I sat on your lap and snogged you. I just can't believe it."

"Neither can I."

Lenore's eyes grew wide and she glanced down at Neville, who stared blankly at his pillow. "You're awake!"

He sniffed and coughed once more. "I woke up when I coughed."

"Oh, shit! You heard all that?"

He nodded as her face turned bright red. He flipped onto his back and stared up to her. "You're so sweet."

"Go back to sleep," she covered his eyes, "before I die of embarrassment."

He smiled and settled back into his pillow, the back of his head still touching her thigh. After a moment, he gasped and jumped forward on his pillow, breaking their contact.

"Smooth," she laughed.

"I-I didn't even realize how close I was to you. S-sorry."

"I didn't mind. I just figured it was comforting you."

"I-i-it was a nice feeling. N-n-not a… you know, one of _those_ feelings. But more a feeling of s-security."

She leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Go to sleep," she whispered.

"I-I will. You don't have to stay."

"I want to."

"O-okay." She could see the corners of his lips perk up. "T-thank you."

She curled her leg closer to him. "No problem. I'll leave after I make sure you're sleeping alright."

He nodded and after a moment, he returned his head to her leg. "I-i-is this okay?"

"Of course."

He closed his eyes, whispered a thank you, then quickly drifted to sleep.

…

 **Monday Evening**

Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, and Tracey Davis were some of the most vile girls in Slytherin. They filled out the rest of the sixth year Slytherin girls, along with two other girls they roomed with, who Lenore considered nice, but not friendly. Pansy wished she could live in their room. Every moment she had to sit in that dorm with Blair, Odette, Circe, and Lenore was a moment filled with pure hatred. The other girls made up her "gang," of which Pansy was the obvious leader. Tracey rarely spoke, Daphne agreed with everything Pansy said, and Millicent was too stupid to form her own thoughts. And that was the way Pansy liked it. None of this "talking back" that her roommates practiced.

Lenore carefully avoided this group of girls at all costs. When they were together, they fed off each girl's nastiness to become a four-headed monster spewing catty comments. Odette and Lenore took their seats at the Slytherin table for their usual supper together. Both girls, though ambitious and clever, often felt left out among the more meaner Slytherins. At breakfast and lunch, Lenore and Odette sat at the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, respectively But for dinner they always made conversation, sometimes joined by Blair, Mallory Lux, and his friends. Odette was far by Lenore's best friend in Slytherin.

This particular day, Lenore and Odette sat with all Mallory's friends, but Pansy's friend group decided to sit adjacent to them. Every so often, Lenore heard one of their mean comments float across her ear, but she ignored it. It was fairly easy, as Theodore Knott loudly joked around.

"— and her panties fell to the ground!"

The table roared with laughter at this stupid joke Theodore Nott had invented last period. The laughter stopped abruptly when half the table stared up behind Lenore. She felt a tap on her shoulder. Neville stood right behind her.

"I'm really sorry," he mumbled, "are you busy?"

"No!" Lenore said as she jumped from her seat. "What's up?"

The table remained silent until Neville left earshot. The pair walked back about ten feet, as not to be heard.

"S-sorry to take you away, but I was just wondering if you got the Defense notes from Thursday? I completely forgot to ask you Friday night or Saturday when you stopped by. A-and I kind of really need them before tomorrow."

"Yeah!" Lenore said. "Are you free after dinner? We can hang out and you can copy them."

"That'd be great, thank you so much."

"No problem. Want to meet at seven-thirty outside the library?"

"Sounds good," he said. "Sorry to take you away from your friends."

"Let me tell you a little secret," Lenore smiled. "They aren't my friends. Except Odette and Blair."

"No?" Neville asked. "You seemed to be having a good time."

"We mutually find each other amusing during dinner, then ignore each other the entirety of the day."

Neville laughed. "Hey, thanks again. Seamus and Dean were useless with the notes. I knew you'd have them."

He bent over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. A look of fear crossed Lenore's face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "You just kissed me. In public. For the first time. In front of all these Slytherins… who have no idea we're dating."

The fear spread to his face. "Bloody hell, I forgot. Oh no, Lenore, I outed us!"

Lenore shook her head. "It's okay! It was going to happen eventually. I just couldn't find a good time to tell them. I don't know how they'll take it."

Neville could see a good portion of the table in the corner of his eye. "They are all staring at us. So, probably not well. Oh no."

"You better get out of here, before they start being bitches. Seven-thirty in the library."

Lenore kissed him on the cheek and he gave her a look of apologetic appreciation. She took a deep breath and turned around to witness about twenty faces staring at her. Calmly, she restored herself to her seat. Her heart pulsated so rapidly she could feel it pound against skull. The silence suffocated her ears. Her mouth grew dry.

"Okay, I'll speak first," Pansy said. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"

Lenore bit her lip. "I… am dating Neville."

The section erupted in a gasp and light chatter.

"YOU ARE WHAT?" screeched Pansy.

"Neville Longbottom and I are dating."

"No," Mallory said, "you can't be. How?"

"The better question would be why?" Millicent sneered.

"Because… I fancy him."

Pansy appeared so full of rage that her face burned pink. She clenched her fists. She hated when events happened out of her control. "Henry. I told you not to do this."

"Who gave you the power to control me?" Lenore demanded. "Pansy, why don't you mind your own business."

"ME?" she screeched. "I'M NOT THE ONE FUCKING LONGBOTTOM."

A majority of the Slytherin table, along with parts of Ravenclaw, now peered over at this group of sixth and seventh years. Lenore's hands began to shake, but she remained in control of her mind. "I am _not_ fucking him."

"No," Pansy said, "you wouldn't would you? Little prissy virgin. I can't believe you would do this, Lenore. I truly can't."

"Pansy, why don't you shut up?" Odette finally chimed in.

Pansy slowly twisted her head to her other roommate. "You are okay with this? What about you, Banks?"

All eyes turned to her. Blair pulled her fork out of her mouth. "As long as Lenore is happy, I can look past this."

Pansy clamped her mouth shut. When she stopped, Draco, who sat next to her, took over. "If I knew you had a thing for fat idiots, I could have set you up with Goyle here ages ago!"

Lenore stood up and briskly paced out of the Great Hall and into her dormitory. She flopped down on her bed and stared at the tin ceiling. Beautifully etched silver squares covered the ceiling. As she often did when she worried, Lenore counted the tiles. Same as always, thirty-two. She rested like that for who knows how long, thinking only of the hatred building up in her system. She did not know what she had expected. She was glad her roommates stuck for up her, though.

"Knock, knock," came a voice from the door.

Circe emerged, followed by Blair and Odette. Lenore covered her face with her pillow. Circe sat at the foot of her bed. "So…" she said, "that wasn't the smoothest way to let everybody know you're dating Longbottom."

Lenore screamed into the pillow.

"Okay, love, no need to get all angsty about this," laughed Blair.

Lenore slowly sat up and removed the pillow from her head. She felt her throat grow dry as she whispered, "Why doesn't anyone like Neville?"

The three girls glanced at each other. Finally, Odette said, "I don't think any of us know him very well."

"I only know the gossip," CIrce said. "Nobody really knows anything about him, besides whatever funny quip Draco has said about him."

"They aren't funny," Lenore said. "They're mean."

Without hesitation, Blair said, "Tell us what you see in him. We want to know more about him."

Lenore thought a moment. "He's so nice, for one. I've never seen him be mean and that's a good change from all the Slytherin guys I'm around. He's shy, and for whatever reason I find that attractive. He's smarter than he lets on, it's only a confidence issue. He treats me so well and he looks at me like he cares. He makes me laugh. And I know none of you think this, but I find him attractive."

Circe shrugged. "Despite what everyone says, it's not like he's ugly. He's grown up pretty nicely."

Blair agreed. "He is cute, in his own way. I'm not into quiet boys, but if you like that, I can see why."

"No," Odette said at once, "I saw him up close the other night. He is much cuter up close. You've got to look at the details. He's got nice eyes. And fairly big lips for a white boy."

Blair raised her eyebrows and nodded. "That is one thing I love about Mallory."

"Don't let everyone get you down, Len," Circe added. "If you like him, it doesn't matter. People might be shocked the first week, but they will get over it."

Blair began taking her jewelry off and placing it on her nightstand. She unclipped an earring and said, "I'm excited to see how this pans out. You— little miss cynic— might fall in love."

Lenore groaned, sat up, and grabbed her backpack. "Don't talk about love." She added a splash of lipstick and combed a brush through her hair. "I've got to go. I'm meeting him in the library in a few minutes."

"Ooo, have fun," Circe said. "Let us formally meet him one day. Maybe have a conversation."

"As long as you all promise not to scare him away," Lenore smiled as she exited the room.

As she passed through the entrance to the castle hallway, she bumped into a tall body. Before she knew who she hit, she apologized.

"Sorry!"

Blaise Zabini's eyes met hers and she picked up her pace to get away from him. He touched his fingers lightly to her arm.

"I hear you're dating Longbottom," Blaise said cooly.

Lenore shook him off her arm. "Yes. Are you going to make fun of me as well?"

"No."

That response took Lenore aback. Her face softened. "Then what?"

He stared at Lenore a moment, his cool brown eyes seemingly reading her soul. His dark, flawless skin almost seemed to shimmer in the dungeon lighting. She shifted in discomfort as his eyes never left her face.

"How have you been, Lenore?"

She gave him a crazy look. "What?"

"It's been a while since we've talked, I'm just making sure you're doing okay."

"I'm perfectly fine," she folded her arms in front of her body, "why do you ask?"

"I because I do care about you, despite what you think. You always act like I hate you."

"Well, don't you?"

"No. I don't agree with you or your lifestyle, but that doesn't mean I hate you."

"My lifestyle?"

"You know what I mean."

"You mean hanging around non-Purebloods."

Blaise shrugged. "If that's what you want to think."

She rolled her eyes. "I feel like you always forget I'm a half-blood."

"Oh, I remember. You just don't act like the rest. You're not always jumping down my throat for my beliefs, so I won't jump down yours."

"Alright," she said slowly. "Well, got to go, see you later."

"Wait," he said at once. "You're really dating Longbottom?"

"Yes!"

He shook his head. "I just can't believe it."

"Why?"

"You don't seem like the type to me."

Lenore adjusted her stance from a position favorable to running away to one ready to take on Blaise. "What does that mean?"

"You don't really fit together," he said cooly.

"Blaise, if you say one thing about his looks, so help me God—"

"No," he clarified. "Don't flatter yourself."

Her jaw dropped open. "You're an asshole."

"That's true. Don't get me wrong, you're pretty. Out of Longbottom's league for sure, but—"

"Blaise, don't speak," she begged. "Please, just shut up."

"But then again, he is a pureblood."

Lenore's face shifted to surprise. "What?"

"Longbottom is a filthy blood traitor, but I'm glad you were able to find yourself someone of… semi-decent breeding."

"Breeding?" she screeched. "That's disgusting. I don't hear you care about 'breeding' when you make out with all these half-blood girls, including me."

"That's different."

Lenore rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, Blaise."

"Wait, Lenore," he grabbed her arm gingerly again. She did not know why she turned around, but she allowed him to speak. "You're going to get so much shit for this relationship, but… none of it will be from me, I can promise you that."

"Gee, thanks."

"Really," he said as he let go of her arm. "You respect me, I respect you. That's how it works."

She was quiet a moment. "Alright, well… Have a good day."

He gave a short nod and Lenore exited the entryway.

Blaise, unlike many of the Slytherin boys, did not scare her. He was not nearly as mean as some of the others. Sure, he could be cold and he was highly prejudice, but he never actively tried to hurt anyone. His family was not associated with the Death Eaters, unlike Theodore Nott's father, a high-ranking Death Eater. Every time Lenore interacted with Theodore, she made sure not to offend him. Although, from what Odette told her the other night after the fireworks, there was definitely something off about Theodore. Lenore pushed those thoughts from her mind.

It was a funny thing, being a Slytherin and not being obsessed with blood purity. Lenore wanted to stand up for these people her fellow housemates bullied, but sometimes it simply was not worth the hassle. She could not change their minds. It was best to let them go their own way, even if it made her feel guilty sitting next to a student whose parents could very well have murdered some other student's parents.

When she arrived in the library, she spotted Neville leaning up against a bookcase near the entrance.

"Sorry I'm late!" she said. "You'll never guess who just tried to talk to me."

"Who?" he asked as they began their journey towards the back of the room.

"Blaise."

Neville's eyes grew wide. "So, he knows."

"Everybody knows," Lenore laughed. "But it's okay on Blaise's side."

"He's… okay with it? He didn't have some rude comment?"

"No," she shook her head. "Well, kind of. He basically told me I was dating up, because you're a pureblood."

"Rubbish," he gasped. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. If anyone is dating up, it's me."

"Well… that's what some others said."

He frowned as he took a seat at a private table. Lenore sat next to him on the same side of the table, which clearly surprised him. "Pansy, I bet."

She nodded. "Oh yeah, she's pretty mad. She screamed at me. Watch out for her. Watch out for all of them."

"She screamed at you?"

"Yeah. She's really angry."

Neville's face fell as Lenore pulled her notebook out of her backpack. She opened to the correct page and he began copying down her words. "I hope she isn't going to be rude to you."

Lenore shook her head. "Maybe for a couple weeks, but she'll get over it. She's got her own issues to deal with. You know her and Draco are fucking?"

Neville nearly choked on his own spit, which made Lenore laugh.

"I-I actually didn't know that, but thanks for that fun fact."

"Oh yeah," she nodded. "Going at it like rabbits. I caught them in our room the other day and I just turned around and left. I didn't see anything thank God, she had her canopy curtains drawn, but I think I could just make out the sound of Draco crying."

"Crying?" Neville's eyes widened.

"I'm about ninety per cent sure he was crying."

"Why… why would he be crying?"

"He's got issues, Nev. Big emotional issues. And to be honest…" She dropped her voice low. "I think he's being recruited as a Death Eater."

"You know, Harry said that same thing last night."

"He agrees with me?"

He nodded. "And I do, too. It makes sense. His father's in jail. You Know Who needs more recruits to fill the void of his best men in Azkaban. Their children are the next logical step. Theodore might even be recruited."

"Okay, see, that's what I wanted to tell you a couple weeks ago! After the fireworks, Odette told me a lot about Theo that I didn't know. You're going to think I'm crazy for saying this, but… I don't think Theo is a purist."

Neville gave her a weird look. "You… don't think he's a purist? Lenore, that makes no sense. He laughs at half-bloods. He uses the 'm' word and I don't mean muggleborns. He's obviously prejudice."

"No, okay, hear me out. And please, please don't go telling anyone this. I trust you."

Neville was very obviously stunned to hear her say the words, "I trust you." He blinked once and then gulped. "I promise, I'll stay quiet."

Lenore latched onto his arm and leaned in close to Neville's ear. She hesitated, then placed a silencing charm around their heads. "I don't want anyone to hear," she still whispered close to him. "Theo's father is a Death Eater, you know that."

Neville nodded.

"But… Odette and I don't think he was always evil. Theo told Odette his mom was actually really kind and not purist at all. His dad was a Death Eater, yes, but not a high-ranking one. He was recruited through force, because he had three older brothers who were Death Eaters. They were all killed by the Order. Mr. Nott was really disillusioned by the whole thing. He wanted to quit, but you don't just quit the Death Eaters. When Theodore was eight, his mum died. His mom was the only happiness in his dad's life. She got really sick and the healers couldn't stop her from dying. And that's when Mr. Nott just kind of spiraled down. He had been evil before that, don't get me wrong, but this sent him over. He devoted his life to resurrecting You Know Who because all the light in his life had been extinguished. I have never heard Theo actually say anything purist himself, he just laughs or nods along, and we think it's all an act. He told Odette how much his mum meant to him, and we think she taught him not to be such an awful person. And I see the look you're giving me, but please just think for a second."

Neville shook his head. "Wow. Oh wow. I mean, it kind of makes sense. You're right, I've never direct heard or seen him do anything to hurt people. He's just in the crowd."

"Yeah," she nodded. She got up on her knees and scooted even closer to his ear. "Okay, Neville, you honest-to-God can't tell anyone this, but I need to get it off my chest. Do you promise to forget this as soon as I say it?"

He nodded. "I promise."

Her voice quieted even more. "Theo has a little brother. He's twelve and he's a squib."

Neville gasped. "No!"

"Yes! Oh Neville, please don't ever tell anyone. His name is Archie and he lives with muggles down the road from Theo. When You Know Who returned, Mr. Nott had to hide his son, or he would have been killed. He goes to muggle school and his memory was wiped of Theo and his parents and any recollection of magical people. Mr. Nott used to _Imperius_ curse to convince the muggles to take him in. And now with Mr. Nott in jail, Theo is totally alone for the first time in his life."

"Wait. He just told Odette all this?"

Lenore nodded. "He poured his heart out to her. I honestly think they're snogging, but she's being coy about it."

Neville narrowed his eyes and odd noises of confusion. "Oh my god. That's so cruel. That's… demented!"

"I know! Theo is caught up in this without a say in the matter. I feel bad for him."

"You don't feel bad for his father, do you?"

"No," she shook her head immediately. "Not at all. What an awful, messed up thing to do. Like you said, it's demented, all of it. He sold his soul and his heart to The Dark Lord without a care in the world for his family. That's terrifying."

Neville nodded. He opened his mouth, but then shut it. Finally, after catching Lenore's eyes, he said, "Y-you know I met Nott's father a-at the Ministry?"

"Did you?" Lenore's eyes widened. This was the first time Neville had ever voluntarily brought up his battle with Death Eaters.

"Y-yeah. Scary bloke. Really, really scary. He's the one who gave me those scars I was telling you about."

She gasped. "You saw? They weren't wearing masks?"

"A-a lot of them took them off, but he had his on. I heard Malfoy call him 'Nott' so… I know."

Lenore hugged his arm and touched her cheek to his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm fine."

"You know what just makes me mad about Blaise?" Lenore said to change the subject.

"What?"

"His people call your people all blood traitors, but meanwhile it's fine for them to make out with half-bloods and muggleborns. It doesn't make sense."

"There is no logic to their bigotry," Neville pointed out. "It's kind of hard to think when you're all interbred."

"You are 'interbred,'" she said.

"And you see me struggling over these notes."

Lenore giggled. "No, you're actually going quite quick! Especially with me yammering on in your ear."

"I can multitask, he said. "Did I miss anything else in class?"

"Just Snape being a git," she smiled as she took the silencing charm off the couple.

"So, nothing unusual?"

"Hmmm… oh! He actually got mad at me for once," she laughed.

"No way. Why?"

"He told me I was lazy."

"Why did he say that?"

"Because… I spent the entire class talking to Lavender Brown."

"You talk to Lavender Brown?"

"No. Well, sometimes. She talks, I mostly nod. Only because Parvati spent the day sick in bed."

"With Troll Throat?"

"Mhmm," she nodded. "It's going around like crazy. And honestly… I could have given it to her, too. We shared a drink last week when she begged me to try this new soft drink she mixed together."

"Lenore," he groaned, "you are Patient Zero."

She laughed. "Or she gave it to me and I gave it to you."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes as she quieted down her giggles.

To the front of them, they heard a loud commotion. A set of books fell off the shelves about twenty feet in front of them. As the cloud of dust calmed from its swirling rage, they could see Circe, Blair, and Odette's faces pressed up against the bookcase.

Lenore's mouth hung open. "What you are lot doing here?"

"Certainly not spying on you," Odette said. "Ow!"

Lenore assumed Circe cast an elbow her way. "Come over here, then."

As they emerged from the shelves, Lenore said to Neville, "Don't worry, they took it decently well."

"Blair Banks," she was the first to stick out her hand.

"Odette Trujillo," the blonde shook his palm. "But I've already met you, so I don't know why I'm shaking your hand."

"You probably remember me as the girl who got hit," Circe said nervously, "but I'm Circe Defleur."

"N-n-nice to meet you all," Neville said quietly.

"So," Blair folded her hands in front of her like a professional interviewer, "I hear you are dating our Lenore."

"Y-yes."

"Mmm. Well, we'll decide that. If you can pass a series of tests, you have our blessing."

"She's kidding," Lenore said when he saw Neville gulp.

"Name?" Blair asked.

"Neville Longbottom."

"Middle name?"

"I-I don't have one."

Blair peered over the glasses she wore tonight. "You don't have one?"

"N-no."

"Hmm, that might be a few points off. Blood status?"

Neville's mouth fell open.

"I'm just playing," Blair laughed and waved her hand. "As long as you aren't muggleborn."

She laughed again at Neville's scared face. "Just kidding. My grandma is a muggle. Tell me, why do you fancy Lenore?"

"Umm…" Neville said slowly, "sh-she's funny. That's probably the most important thing. She's very smart and interesting. She's nice. She's generally very happy and fun. She cheers me up when I'm—"

"Lenore?" exclaimed Odette.

"Cheers you up?" Circe gapped.

"What, in between all her complaining?" finished Odette.

Neville looked unnerved. "W-what?"

"Have you got a nagging fetish or something?"

"N-no," Neville stammered. "In between the complaining, she's q-quite lovely. S-she's lovely when she's complaining, too."

Blair slammed her palm down on the table. "You've got yourself a keeper," she said to Lenore.

"Nothing about her looks?" Circe directed to Neville. "You've got a gorgeous girl and you don't even mention her appearance."

Neville glanced to Lenore and back to Circe. "She's so beautiful sometimes I can't even look at her."

Lenore felt her insides grow heavy. She intertwined her fingers in his and he gave her hand a small squeeze.

"And what else?" Odette leaned on her hands and sighed.

"She… um, she makes me feel comfortable."

"I can see why you'd need that," Circe said before thinking. She noticed Neville's face fall and caught herself. "Sorry. You should have heard all the nice things she said about you earlier."

"What'd you say?" he asked Lenore.

"I'll tell you later," she whispered.

"She said you're funny, but I haven't heard you tell one joke," Odette said.

"It's a bit hard to be funny when you're being brutally interrogated by three strangers," Lenore pointed out.

"Alright, I'll give him that. Tell me, Longbottom, if you two get married, would you make her take your last name?"

His eyes widened at the prospect of marriage. "N-not if she didn't want to. It-it's kind of an awful name."

"Exactly the answer I was looking for, full marks. Would you ever take her last name?"

"I-I… don't know. That's kind of unusual."

"Kind of dumb," Lenore said. "No matter what, I'll have a man's last name, whether my dad's or husband's."

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

"I'm not sure," Neville hesitated. "H-hopefully alive, for starters."

"I think that was a joke," Odette whispered to Circe.

"I think so, too," Circe hissed to Blair.

"I'll put him down for 'dark humor'," she wrote in her imaginary notebook.

"It wasn't a joke," Lenore scoffed, "we're in a war. Gryffindors actually worry about this stuff."

"You're right," Blair said. "I guess we don't have to worry about it as much when you've shagged a guy with a Dark Mark."

All their eyes flew to Circe.

"No," Lenore said, "you didn't."

"First of all, I did not sleep with him, I gave him head."

Neville had never looked more uncomfortable.

"Circe!" Lenore exclaimed. "Who?"

"Well, see, the thing is—"

"Mulaney," Blair interrupted.

"Ian?" Lenore's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "That seventh year?"

"Let me talk!" Circe said, clapping her hand over Blair's mouth. "Obviously I wouldn't have done it if I knew. It was dark, but his sleeve fell down his arm for a moment and I saw it out of the corner of my eye. I nearly choked in fear."

"Or from the cock in your mouth," Blair said.

"He must have gotten it during the summer!" Lenore whispered, in an attempt to ignore Blair's comment. Her mouth gave her away when the corners turned up in amusement. "Merlin, that's scary, though."

"How do you think I felt!"

"Was it good head?" Odette asked.

"He came."

"Good news, you have been spared from the Dark Lord's wrath."

Neville was now shifting around in his seat.

"You are stressing him out," Lenore laughed. She put her arms around his shoulders.

"That brings up a good question," Blair said. "You know Lenore is a virgin, right?"

Neville froze, too stunned to answer.

"What are you expecting, sexually out of this?"

"Hush," Lenore told her roommate. "That's none of your business."

"You're right," Blair threw her hands up. "You are always right."

She whispered to Lenore, but loud enough for everyone to hear, "I only wanted to see him squirm."

"You succeeded," Neville said.

"There was some humor," Odette said.

"Mark it down as 'somewhat amusing,'" Circe commanded Blair.

She made a fake note in the air. "Now on to your sexual history— I assume virgin?"

Neville nodded, until Lenore held his chin. "You don't have to answer these."

Blair laughed. "I'm surprised you did."

"Are you done?" Lenore asked.

"One more question," Blair said. "How big are you?"

"BLAIR!" Lenore turned bright red.

Neville seemed confused. "What like height-wise?"

Blair laughed so intensely that she began to slam her hands on the table. They were lucky to be in back of the library, far away from the librarian's earshot. "Sure, let's go with that."

Neville looked at Lenore, who cringed. "What is she talking about?" he whispered to Lenore as the three girls laughed.

She cringed and returned the low voice. "Your penis."

Just hearing that word come out of Lenore's mouth was enough to give him anxiety, but add in to that the three other Slytherins awaiting his response.

"O-o-oh," was all he could say, "I-I-I've never really measured."

Circe rolled her eyes. "Sure you have, Longbottom, every guy has."

"…I'm around one-point-nine meters."

"That doesn't sound right," Blair smiled.

"I decided to go for height."

Blair laughed. "It's okay, I can guess. You know what they say about men with big ears…"

Neville's hands reached up to hold his ears. "W-what?"

Lenore slammed a hand down on the table and pointed a finger at her roommate. "Blair, don't speak."

"Big ears means you have a big cock," Odette interrupted.

Neville's face burned red. "O-oh." He placed his hands over his ears again.

"Would you say, in your experience, that is true?" Blair turned to Circe.

The girl folded her hands in front of her and grew studious-looking. "In my humble experience, I would tend to agree. There's always the exception, but generally I'd say there is a correlation."

"How scientific," Lenore said.

"Listen, just because you think I'm a slag—"

"Oh honey," Blair interrupted, "we don't 'think' you're a slag, we _know_ you're a slag."

Circe smiled softly while the other girls giggled. Neville sat avoiding eye contact. "Whatever," the girl said, "at least I'm enjoying myself."

"That's all that matters," Lenore said. "And don't let anyone tell you differently."

"Alright," Blair said as she closed her imaginary notebook. "I've finished all my questions. Longbottom, it was nice to meet you. You two have a goodnight."

Lenore smiled at her roommates as they said warm goodbyes to Neville. She turned to Neville and squeezed his hand. "So, that wasn't a complete disaster."

He smiled. "No, if you ignore the fact that they discussed my genitals."

"Sorry," her laugh rang out. "That's just how they are. And thank you for not answering. We need some mystery."

He grinned and returned to copying her notes. After a few minutes, his hand slowly halted writing. He stared down on the page, his eyes glazed over, then he met Lenore's eyes.

"Are my ears really big?" he asked softly.

Lenore noticed the sadness behind his eyes. She kissed him on the cheek, and then once on the earlobe. "No."

"They are," he said. "You can tell the truth."

"I like your ears," she whispered. She kissed him again behind his ear. "They suit you."

Neville sat completely still, enjoying her lips against his skin. "T-thanks."

"Look," she said, leaning away. She tilted his face towards her and grabbed on to his ears gently. "I can kiss you better with them."

Her lips met his as her fingers slipped behind his ears. She rubbed soothing circles into his jawline with her thumbs and pulled his face closer to hers. When she finally let go, Neville blinked a few times and strung a few words together.

"Merlin," he said quietly, "you are good at this."

She smiled. "Thanks! You aren't bad yourself."

She picked up his quill again and handed it to him. "Keep writing," she grinned.

Neville finished transcribing her notes and closed her book. He walked her back to the Slytherin dungeons and kissed her goodnight.


	29. Chapter 29: Danger in Hogsmeade

**Neville's POV**

"Neville, we're going to be late!"

"I know! Sorry!"

He let her into the Gryffindor Tower, still clad in his robe. They had agreed to meet outside the Tower at nine a.m., but Neville's alarm did not go off until nearly 8:45. He managed to shower and fix his hair, but he wore only underpants and a robe. At ten past nine, when he was still not ready, he decided he better go downstairs and explain to Lenore why he was running late. She had not been pleased to see him unprepared in only a blue and white striped robe. Neville invited her upstairs so she could wait with some company.

Blustering cold and freezing rain would no doubt plague the skies before the day's end. It was unusual for the middle of October to be this positively polar, but the weather forecaster on the radio had said this winter would be brutal. Lenore came prepared in thick black leggings, a black fleece jumper, warm grey socks, brown waterproof ankle boots, and a puffy basil-hued down vest. Her long golden brown hair fell down her shoulders in thick layers and she wore the prettiest shade of lipstick that complimented her eye color.

Meanwhile, Neville stood in his robe picking through his dresser as if he had all the time in the world.

"Neville!" she clapped her hands on each syllable of his name. "Let's go! The carriages start leaving at nine-thirty! It's Nine-fifteen!"

"They start leaving at nine-thirty. They don't all leave until after ten."

"Yes, but it's supposed to start sleeting later. I don't want to be in the carriage when that mess starts."

Neville continue to stare down into his dresser. He had no idea what to wear. Finally, he decided on navy trousers, a a light blue dress shirt with a slightly darker blue jumper vest, and a dark indigo peacoat. Lenore stood in the bathroom while he changed, then he called her back.

"You look good," she grinned.

He stammered out his appreciation.

She sat on the edge of his bed as he put on his socks. "So, since we're going to be late anyway, how has your week been?"

"Good," he said as he realized his socks did not match. He got up to select a new pair and he saw Lenore clench her fist, which amused him. "I passed that Potions test."

"Did you?" she exclaimed. "That's great!"

"How'd you do?"

"I… got an Outstanding," she said with a hint of hesitation in her voice.

Neville grinned. "Wow. Why are you embarrassed?"

She shrugged. "I don't like telling people my grades. I like to set the bar low, so when I do the bare minimum, people are still proud of me."

He laughed. "That's nuts. If I got grades as good as yours, I'd tell everyone."

"That reminds me," she said, "I failed my Transfiguration quiz last week!"

"You didn't!"

"I did. McGonagall took me out in the hallway and asked if everything was okay. I had to tell her I forgot to study."

"You never study," Neville pointed out.

"Yes, but she doesn't have to know that."

Neville smiled at this beautiful girl sitting on his bed. She returned the gesture, which made his heart do a little dance. It had been a six weeks and one day since the first time he kissed her, but with each passing week, his admiration only grew stronger. This was the first time they were visiting Hogsmeade together. Lenore had originally planned to go with her friends, but they urged her to arrange a date with Neville, so he gladly accepted. Today was mostly unplanned however, minus the exception of lunch with Derek and Margaux. They had plans to ride down to the village with Seamus and Terry, but those hopes might be dashed unless Terry was also running late.

Lenore checked her watch. "So, what was the highlight of your week?"

Neville thought a moment. "Probably when Seamus called McGonagall 'Minnie' behind her back and she heard him."

"What happened?" she gasped.

"She gave him detention last night."

"So that's where he was. You know, I almost bet I could call Slughorn 'Horace' and he would still love me."

"But could you do it with Snape?"

"I'd be scared to. But I don't think he'd give me detention. I think he would just make a rude comment and tell me to stop being stupid."

"Does he call you stupid?" Neville asked.

"No. Lazy. But not stupid," she smiled. "What does he call you?"

"Stupid," he said, as a grin appeared on his face.

Lenore laughed. "You're not stupid. At least not in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He has to realize that."

"Good to know I'm 'not stupid' in 'at least' one class," he teased her.

She flung a hand to her mouth. "Merlin, sorry. Did I really say that? You're not stupid in any class."

"It's okay," he smiled. "Except now two teachers know I'm dreadful at Potions."

"Now two teachers know I'm great at Potions," she played.

"Alright," he said, "quit bragging."

Lenore smiled. "If Professor Sprout had a club full of conceited wankers like Slughorn does, I'm sure you would be her crown jewel."

Neville wrapped his arms into his thick navy peacoat. "Thank you, that means a lot to me."

"You should get her to start one. Call it 'Pom Crew,' for her first name."

Neville grinned and shook his head. "I'm pretty sure forming an exclusive club goes against everything Hufflepuff believes in."

Lenore faked a puking motion. "Yuck. I want to be in everything exclusive I can get into."

"Let's form our own exclusive club," Neville suggested.

"How would that work?" she grinned.

"It would be just the two of us, it's that exclusive. We call it… 'Club Nevore'."

Lenore laughed loudly. "And what do we do in this club?"

"Whatever you want."

"Can we just sit around and make out, with the occasional witty banter and wise advice?"

"Oh, that is preferred," he smiled.

Lenore stood up and kissed him on the lips. She pulled away just enough to say, "I now call this meeting of Club Nevore to order."

Neville chuckled against her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her back and held her tightly. Her hands slid their way behind his head, as she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss was warm and impish, the type Neville enjoyed immensely. Lenore took his bottom lip in between hers and softly ran her tongue across his. He fully expected her to pull away after a short time, given her anxiousness to miss the carriages, but she did not. She continued kissing him with affection.

As their passion built, he felt her grow braver with her movements. Her teeth etched the inside of his lip for a brief moment, then she broke away. Again, on the next kiss, her teeth just barely brushed his bottom lip. He ran his hands up to the back of her head, holding her steady as he could not stop himself from releasing a small whimper.

Her fingernails dug into his skin, which sent a shudder down his spine. The kisses grew more wild, quickening the beat of his heart. He bit her bottom lip once and she did not seem adverse to it, so he tried again.

"Holy shit," she murmured against his mouth.

He smiled and repeat this motion. His teeth trailed her lip softly and lovingly. As they settled into each other's movements, she slipped her hands into the back pockets of his trousers and clutched his butt. He opened his eyes wide as she pulled him, by the arse, against her body.

He stopped kissing her immediately. Lenore pulled away and watched him open and close his mouth several times, as if too shocked to speak.

"Is this okay?" she asked. She wanted to make sure he felt comfortable.

"Y-y-yes," he stammered.

"Good," she smiled. "You can touch my butt, too, anytime you want."

"O-okay," he said, obviously still a bit shaken. "I-I'll leave my hands on your back for now."

"Alright. So, how about you kiss me again?"

He obeyed and his lips met hers once more. Every single one of her fingers gripped his fleshy bum and she giggled as she tightened her hold on his right cheek. Merlin, she made him feel things he had never felt before. He could tell she was stopping herself from giggling nervously, so he smiled against her mouth to give her the opportunity to laugh. Her laugh was one of the most beautiful and melodious sounds he had ever heard, despite how loud it always was. He did not mind one bit. Her laugh made him feel comfortable and warm inside. He would do anything to hear her chuckle, even if it was at his expense.

This laugh, however, was not because he was doing something wrong or funny or odd, it was because she was happy. Lenore laughed whenever she was happy, even if nothing was funny. While Neville tended to stick to simply smiling, when Lenore was truly happy, she became incredibly animated. Loud laughs and unrestrained squeals, huge grins and crazy gestures, she was not afraid to show happiness. Other emotions, however… if she wasn't happy, she could feel literally any other emotion and he would have no idea. The only way he could vaguely tell her mood was the looks of her expressive face, and those were more reactions. If someone said something stupid, her mouth flattened and she furrowed her eyebrows. When she showed sympathy, she pouted and tilted her head. But her own emotions remained a mystery to him, besides glee.

After a few moments of glorious kissing, Neville worked up the courage to allow his hands to travel down her back. He placed a single hand vertically on her left butt cheek, not clutching it nor holding it, but merely permitting his hand to rest loosely on it. She immediately stopped kissing him and began laughing.

"W-what?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just how nervous you seem."

He smiled softly. "Maybe because I am."

"It's just a bum."

"But it's the person it's attached to."

"Smack it."

His eyes widened. "S-sma—what?"

She was giggling quite a bit now. "Smack my arse."

"N-n-no!" he stammered, looking more shocked than ever.

"Why not?"

"B-because I can't hit you."

"Neville," she rolled her eyes, "that's not hitting me."

"A smack is definitely a hit."

"Come on. Smack my arse."

"W-why do you want me to?"

"Because, I think it's funny. Neville Longbottom. Smacking a girl's arse."

His face burned bright red and Lenore kissed his lips. She broke away to continue giggling. "You don't have to—"

But she was cut off by Neville's left hand stinging her butt cheek. Her mouth fell open when she saw his anxious face and realized he had struck her.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked with laughter. "You actually did it!"

"H-h-how was that?"

She kissed him once more, attacking his lips with her smile. Both of his hands lightly cradled her bum. He was still obviously nervous to be touching her there. After a bit of snogging, he lowered his right hand from its position resting on the top of her butt. He cupped her cheeks from below and pressed his fingers tight against her skin. Lenore began giggling against his mouth, so he released his firm grasp.

"No," she murmured, "you can do that. That's not why I'm laughing."

He pulled his face away and returned the chuckling. "Why are you laughing so much?"

"Because," she collapsed into his chest in a fit of amusement, "you're so sweet and innocent, but when I tell you to do these things, you're actually really good at them."

"O-oh," his eyes widened. "T-that's good."

Lenore glanced up to see him cringing. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed his collarbone. "Come on, we've got to go or the carriages will leave without us."

He nodded and allowed her to take his hand and lead him out of the Gryffindor Tower. The pair were quiet, until Neville broke the silence. "So… does this mean I can touch your bum anytime I want?"

She laughed. "Yeah, as long as I'm in the mood for it, I want you to."

He reached out and touched a hand to her butt, then instantly pulled away and smiled like a little kid on Christmas.

"Quit," she laughed. "Not in public. I hate when couples do that."

"So do I," he smiled. "But now that I am one of those couples, that might change."

"It's not going to change. We're not that annoying."

He shrugged.

"So help me _God,_ if you touch my ass in public, I will beat yours."

"That's kind of hot."

She punched him in the arm. "Do not try me, Longbottom. Speaking of which, you don't have a long bottom. It's actually quite round and perky."

He flushed red and she immediately laughed. "That shut you up, didn't it?"

"I-it did. Thanks a lot."

"You know I don't like P.D.A.," she smiled. "Especially today, don't do it in front of my sister. That's too weird."

"I won't. But you don't like any P.D.A.? None at all?"

She thought a moment. "Definitely not kissing or hugging for more than a few seconds. Nothing even remotely like snogging. I don't even like when couples look at each other for too long. But if I want to hold your hand or if you want to put a hand on my back, I'm not adverse to things like that. Just think about what makes you uncomfortable when couples are near you."

"So, touching is okay, but you want it to be discreet?"

"Discreet, yes! That's a good word. Oh hey! Seamus is over there."

Lenore pointed towards the courtyard, where they had been expected to meet Seamus about fifteen minutes ago. The boy gave a short wave.

"Hey!" he said. "Why is everyone late today?"

"Where's Terry?" asked Lenore.

"No clue. I told him to meet me in front of the Great Hall, but then he wasn't there, so I figured I'd wait here. But I haven't seen him yet."

At that moment, Terry appeared in the courtyard with his dorm mates Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner. Seamus's frown grew deeper, which Neville noticed immediately. The boy did not seem to want to be mates with the other two roommates.

"Shea!" called Terry as he held up an arm for their intricate high-five.

"Ter!" the Irish lad returned the enthusiasm.

"Why not 'Ter Bear?'" smirked Lenore.

"A bit much, isn't it?" Terry smiled. "How ya doin' Lenny?"

"'Lenny?'" she laughed as she returned his hug. "I didn't know we were that close."

He shrugged. "Anthony calls you Lenny."

The blonde boy blushed as he also hugged Lenore. "Yeah, sorry. Alicia refers to you as that, so I must have picked it up from her."

"That's perfectly fine! Hi, Michael."

He smiled and swept his long black fringe from his face. All the boys greeted Neville with a handshake.

"So," asked Seamus, "are we all riding down together?"

They all agreed and climbed into an empty carriage. Seamus still looked a bit perturbed that he was not alone with his new mate, Terry, but he eventually got over it and struck up a conversation that everyone participated in. The ride was bumpy and cold as chilly, wet winds whipped around the five students. Lenore's cheeks burned bright red from the brisk breeze, which made Neville smile, even though he was sure his cheeks looked even worse.

The back wheel of the carriage feel into a deep rut and Lenore bounced up on the seat. As the cart rumbled violently, Neville put and arm around her to steady her as he firmly planted his feet. Lenore held onto the sides of the carriage, until she realized that exposed her bare fingers to the cold, so she instead opted to let Neville hold her tighter.

Michael interrupted Terry's story about his trip to the lake and said, "Wait. Are you two… together?"

They both nodded as Lenore said, "Yep."

"No way!" Anthony exclaimed. "No fuckin' way! Neville, look at you!"

Neville's shoulder took a punch from Anthony and he smiled uncomfortably.

"How long as this been going on?" Michael asked.

Lenore waited to give Neville the opportunity to answer, but he realized this too late, so she continued. "About six weeks."

"Cool," both Michael and Anthony said while nodding.

"How are things with you-know-who?" Lenore smirked as she stared Anthony directly in the eye.

"With Voldemort?" Michael grinned.

Lenore laughed and said, "No, I think we all know who."

Anthony obviously did not enjoy being put on the spot. "I—er—well— you know, I'm sure."

"I actually don't," she smiled innocently. "Are you two talking or what?"

"We're… I don't know."

"Have you snogged her?" Terry asked.

"Okay, wait," Seamus interrupted. "Who are we talking about? Not Voldemort?"

Neville nodded along. Anthony waited for Lenore to answer, but this time she kept mum. "Alicia Spinnet," he finally blushed. "And no, we haven't… snogged."

"There was a pause!" Terry said. "They did something other than snogged!"

"No! Honest to god, we haven't even kissed. She… I can't tell how she feels about me."

"I heard she was a lesbian," Seamus said.

Lenore whirled her head around to Seamus instantly. Neville could tell she knew something Seamus did not. "No," Lenore said. "She's not a lesbian."

"Maybe lesbian wasn't the word I heard," he tried again. "What is it when you fancy boys and girls?"

"Asexual?" tried Michael.

"No, you idiot, that means you don't feel any sexual attraction."

"Bisexual," offered Terry.

"Yes! Susan Bones told me Alicia was bisexual."

"She fancies… girls?" Anthony gapped as his eyes widened. "Oh Merlin, I can't compete with girls!"

Everyone tilted their heads in slight agreement.

"Even you agree, Lenny?" Anthony asked.

"I mean… I'm not bi, but… logically, girls are better. We're nicer, cleaner, prettier, softer. Based on logic alone, everybody should fancy girls. But that's not what happens."

Anthony groaned.

"So, you fancy girls?" Seamus said to Lenore with a wicked grin.

"No," she stared him down. "And don't act like bisexual women are only there for you nasty males to have threesomes with. That's not how it works."

Seamus shrugged. "I'm not judging anyone. Everyone's sexual preference is valid."

Lenore rolled her eyes. "You'll be fine, Anthony. No matter who she fancies, I'm sure you could be in that equation somewhere."

"I hope so," he said quietly.

"Seriously," Lenore said. "Just make a move. She'll most likely say yes."

Seamus continued to snicker. "And you," she turned to Seamus. "What about you and Katie?"

Seamus leaned back in his seat. "I fancy her, but not enough to not snog other birds in the meantime."

Lenore rolled her eyes yet again and pursed her lips. "Okay, there's actually not anything wrong with that."

"And what about you and Neville?" Seamus grinned in retaliation.

"What about us?" she said.

"What have you two been up to lately?" he smirked again.

Cooly, she replied, "We actually fucked on your bed this morning."

Neville's eyes grew as wide as Seamus's. Even Terry, Anthony, and Michael were clearly shocked, although they laughed like maniacs, tumbling over each other and punching Seamus in the arm. Seamus choked on a sputter as he attempted to come up with some words.

"She's kidding!" Neville interjected. "Merlin, she's joking."

He looked down at Lenore, who sat with her arms crossed, smiling in satisfaction. "I am. But that'll teach you to be a wanker."

"You are the worst," Seamus finally laughed. He turned to the other three boys. "You know they started a relationship without hooking up first?"

"No way," Terry said. "Is that even possible?"

"It's rare to hear that," Anthony agreed.

"But Michael never hooked up with Ginny, so—"

"Do _not_ talk about her around me," Michael interrupted.

Lenore asked, "Why?"

"She's fucking insane. I dated her for six months last year. Lenore, she's batshit crazy."

"Why? What did she do?"

"She's possessive. And cranky. And… I don't even know. She plays with your mind, Lenore. She gets in there and roots around until you're so confused that all you can do it agree with her. She's psycho."

"Okay," Lenore said, "but is she actually, or is this another bullshit line men use when they did something to warrant a bird acting 'crazy?'"

"No, Lenny," Terry said. "He's right. She's got issues."

Anthony nodded along, but Neville kept quiet. He was not sure how to feel. One one hand, Ginny was his good friend. She had always been nice and caring towards him. On the other hand, he witnessed the way she treated blokes she dated. Especially Dean. Michael was definitely right about how she got into her date's brain. Dean was wrapped around her finger, no matter how much he resisted. It was obvious by this point that Dean did not actually fancy Ginny, but rather he simply wanted to move on from Margaux.

The group departed the carriage and went their separate ways— Seamus and Terry towards a sweets shop, Anthony and Michael to the Three Broomsticks, and Lenore and Neville walked aimlessly down the street without a plan. Neville opened the door for her at each shop they visited, and after four shops, he garnered the courage to touch a hand to her back as he followed her inside. The first time, as he pried open the heavy wooden door to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, she did not react, so he figured she either did not feel it or she was ignoring his touch. He brushed his fingers against her jumper under her puffy vest once more in the doorway to The Magic Neep, a grocery store, and she turned around to smile.

"That's the second time you've done that, so now I know it's on purpose."

He nodded, avoiding her eye as he checked out the organic turnips for sale. Nothing caught their interest in the grocery store, so they moved on to a robes shop. This time, she held the door open for him.

"After you."

He returned her grin and her fingers tapped his lower back, just as he had done to her. He had expected her to mock his movement, but what surprised him is how good it felt. The gesture was simple, but it sent electrifying shivers up his spine and made him feel warm and appreciated.

"I love equality, don't you?" she played.

"Yeah," he smiled.

She giggled and said, "This is probably our last shop before we meet Margaux and Derek."

Neville glanced down to his watch. "Oh wow. I didn't even notice it's nearly noon."

Lenore was about five steps ahead of him, checking out the shelves in Zonko's Joke Shop. "Time flies when you're scheming ways to sneak in P.D.A."

She smirked at him over her shoulder, then continued walking with a bounce in her step.

Neville could not believe they had been dating a month and a half and she was still doing things that surprised him. He knew she was gorgeous. He knew she was sarcastic. But something about her in that exact moment, when she combined her charm with her sass and threw her head back to smile radiantly at him, made him melt. He quickened his pace to catch up with her and replied, "It really does."

Her joy twinkled in her eyes as she grabbed his hand. He gave her limb a quick squeeze and assumed she would let go, but she still held on to him. Even when he loosened his grasp, she held tight and continued walking. "Are you… okay with hand holding?" he asked.

"Right now I am," she smiled. "Because you're being cute."

"I'm being cute?" he widened his eyes.

"Yeah," she smiled.

Neville shook his head. "Len, I would never, ever have guessed you'd be this mushy in a relationship."

"Mushy?" she exclaimed as her smile turned into a demanding frown. "How?"

"I can't explain it. You like the little things and I would never have guessed that."

She circled around the back of the shop, Neville in tow, and started down the other aisle towards the door. "What do you mean?"

"You… you seem to enjoy the little things about this relationship. Like having someone to smile at, or do homework with, or even just to talk to. And I don't know… I kind of thought I would have to do more to impress you, you know?"

"Are you saying I have low expectations?" she laughed.

"No! Well… maybe. You're just not one for big romantic gestures. You like little sweet things. Right?"

She nodded. "I liked the flowers you give me. I think that's a big gesture."

"You think flowers are a big gesture?" he raised his brow.

"Yeah? Do you not?"

"No. Not at all. I consider that little."

"Then what's a big gesture?"

He thought a moment. "Like writing poetry or painting or buying you things."

"No," she shook her head. "That stuff is dumb. Well, not dumb, I just don't expect it. Or want it. Especially you buying me things, definitely do not. I just like spending time with you."

She gave his hand a squeeze. "And being close to you."

His heart fluttered and he gave her a smile.

"Do _you_ want big gestures?" she asked. "I can write you a poem, but I'd turn it into a joke."

"No. No, I like little things, too. Maybe one day I'd like to see your write that poem, but…"

"I can do it right now," she said as she pushed open the door to the street. The air was much colder already and thundering clouds appeared overheard, despite an absence of rain. "Roses are red, violets are blue, you're about as jumpy around me as a young kangaroo."

He laughed. "Not awful."

"You try."

"I try?"

She nodded.

"Alright," he thought a moment. "Roses are red, violets are blue, you're about as loud as a noisy kazoo."

A laugh escaped her mouth, but she quickly covered her face with her hand. "I'm not loud!"

"You are," he smiled.

"No!"

"You're quite loud now actually."

She glared at him, but still grinned. "I am not."

"People were staring at us when you laughed."

"Maybe they were staring because we've done too much P.D.A.," she said as she pulled her hand away from him.

"I don't think so. But you're definitely not loud in a bad way."

"Wow, thanks."

Neville opened the door to Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop for her, and the second his hand touched her back, she spun around, in the middle of the doorway, and said, "Don't."

For a split second, Neville was scared, until he saw her amusement. Relief swept over him and he smiled. "S-sorry."

"No you're not."

"Len, get inside, you're letting all the heat out."

She stepped inside the ornately decorated tea shop and stood by the door. "Where should we sit?"

Neville suggested a booth near the back of the shop, so Lenore followed him inside. He took his place on the bench and she slid in next to him, which surprised him. He expected her to sit across from him, but instead there she was, her thigh occasionally brushing his in the close quarters.

"Derek and Margaux should be here any moment," she said. "But we are a little early."

"That's fine," he replied. He tilted his head towards two younger Hufflepuffs making out in the corner booth, then whispered in Lenore's ear, "I see why you don't like P.D.A. This is uncomfortable."

"Very," she agreed. "Merlin H. Wizard, they're just going at it, aren't they?"

"I'm pretty sure he's full-on grabbing her boob under her shirt."

Lenore cringed. "Yuck. Not in public."

She glanced around and he followed suit. "Almost everyone in here is snogging," he said.

Lenore counted, "There are nineteen tables filled and twelve of them have couples making out or touching each other."

Neville placed his hand on top of hers on the table. "Thirteen."

She rolled her eyes, but laughed, then slid her hand out from underneath his. "Twelve."

Neville smiled and picked up a menu, until Lenore's fingers snagged his chin and urged him to face her once more.

"Thirteen."

Her lips touched his for one short kiss, before she separated herself from him. She grinned at his obviously surprised face.

"Neville!" called a deep voice behind Lenore. "And Lenore! How are you guys!"

Neville tore his eyes away from Lenore to witness Dean hurrying towards them, Ginny not far behind.

 **.**

 **Dean's POV**

Thank. God.

Lenore and Neville would save him from Ginny. The girl had been yammering on and on for two hours and Dean's mouth had not cracked open in the last forty minutes at least. It almost hurt his lips to finally open his mouth and speak. Bless Neville and bless Lenore, they would make this frilly tea shop date a little less weird.

Dean and Ginny were not the "date" type people. Each of their dates began with Ginny talking for an hour, and then Dean snogging her to shut her up. He did not hate Ginny, but he did resent her just the tiniest bit. She could be annoying, but he never got the impression she abused him, despite what Seamus argued. Dean knew he would have to put up with some things bad things in a relationship, but he did not know what bad meant. His last girlfriend, Mary Moretti back in third year, could hardly be considered a girlfriend. Fourteen year old loves are never actual love, especially considering he and Mary only kissed twice and the entire relationship lasted a couple months.

Ginny was Dean's first real girlfriend, so he had no idea what to expect. He knew she should not be as annoying as she was, but he did not consider her "abusive," as Seamus had called her. No, Ginny was persistent and strong-willed, but she was never cruel to him. Mostly.

"Mind if we sit down?" Dean asked.

"No," Neville said. "Go ahead! We're just waiting for—"

"Is smells a bit odd in here doesn't it?" Ginny interrupted.

Neville closed his mouth, looking vaguely dejected, and allowed the girl to speak.

"Like they've burnt something? Every time I come here, they burn my food. I send it back every single time."

Lenore placed her menu down and looked at Ginny. "Then why do you keep coming back?"

"I like the atmosphere."

Lenore laughed genuinely. "You just said the atmosphere smells like burning food."

Ginny shrugged. "Normally it doesn't."

Silence lulled over the group and Dean had to think of something to say before Ginny inevitably ushered him out of the booth and back to their own little isolated world.

"So, you said you were meeting other people?"

"Yeah," Lenore nodded. "Margaux and Derek."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Those two have been hanging out quite a bit, haven't they?"

"Wait," Dean said, "isn't Derek…?"

Lenore nodded as Ginny smacked his arm and screeched, "I wasn't insinuating they were together!"

Dean rubbed his shoulder. "Ouch! I just figured by your gossip-y tone…"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, I'm just saying, they've been excluding me a lot lately."

"Well, you are with Dean quite a bit," said Lenore.

Ginny ignored her and gestured for the waitress to pay a visit to their table. The older white haired woman took each of their orders. Lenore ordered for Margaux and Derek, both receiving a warm vanilla latte to warm them up before a light lunch. Ginny and Dean ordered as well, which Dean knew would only confuse the waitress when they moved tables. And they would be moving tables. Ginny would not want to sit by Derek and Margaux, especially after she talked bad about them only two minutes ago.

"You like green tea?" Lenore turned to Neville after the waitress left.

"Yeah," he said. "Why?"

"Because when I made you some at lunch last week, you told me you didn't like green tea."

Neville cringed. "Maybe… I just didn't like… your green tea."

She laughed, "Thanks a lot."

"What was wrong with it?" asked Ginny.

"I…" Neville glanced at Lenore. "I don't know. It just didn't taste right."

"How do you mess up green tea?" Dean smiled.

Lenore shrugged. "I must have managed."

"No," Neville sweetly, "i-it was fine. I appreciate it. It was just… really strong."

"Because you basically drink off-colored water!" she giggled.

"No!" he argued. "I-I like to save the tea packets for more than one cup."

Lenore rolled her eyes. "Okay, you penny pincher."

"Penny pincher?" he raised his eyebrows.

Lenore looked around the table. "Yeah… penny… the American currency."

"And why do you pinch them?" Dean asked.

"Because… I don't know! Forget it. It just means he's being cheap."

Neville smiled and wrapped an arm around her lower back. Ginny examined them, then turned to Dean. This would not be good.

"Why don't you hug me like that when we're in public?" she demanded.

"I—er— what? Why would I do that?"

Ginny folded her arms. "Because we are dating."

Neville released his hold on Lenore, knowing the trouble it caused the couple across the table.

"I don't like public affection, remember?" Dean said.

"I don't either," Lenore chimed in.

"Bull," Ginny said. "That's just an excuse because you're embarrassed to be with me."

Lenore and Neville were visibly surprised at her sudden change in mood, both taking on a frightened look.

Dean scooted away from Ginny to face her head on. "Ginevra, you know I'm not."

"Don't use my full name," she squinted at him.

"I'm not embarrassed to be with you, that's absurd! Lenore, you aren't embarrassed to be with Neville! Tell Ginny why you don't like P.D.A.!"

Lenore glanced over at Neville. "I don't like it because it's awkward. It makes the couple the center of attention and I don't want all the focus on us. I think if we receive any attention, it should be as individuals. P.D.A. makes other people uncomfortable and I'm not a touchy person, anyway."

"You are definitely a touchy person," Neville whispered.

"Not to anyone besides you," she scoffed. "I never hug people."

Ginny, her arms folded, examined Neville as he gave Lenore a short nod and quieted down. She tilted her head towards Dean and said, "Dean here doesn't listen to me for shite. Lenore, you've got Neville so well trained."

Neville crinkled his nose, but Lenore slung an arm around his shoulder. "He did pass obedience school with flying colors. Didn't you, boy?"

She tapped a finger to his nose and cooed at him, as if he were a dog. He laughed, knowing she was only kidding, but she still gave him a reassuring squeeze.

Ginny, however, appeared greatly offended. "Well, that was a bit much."

"'A bit much' is training another human being," Lenore pointed out as she removed herself from Neville.

Ginny pursed her lips and turned towards Dean. "Okay, well, I'm over it. What was it you wanted to talk about, babe?"

Dean was utterly confused. "I… what? Did I say something before?"

At once, Ginny attacked his lips. She pushed him into the corner of the booth and Dean heard Lenore make a low noise of annoyance. Ginny ran her hands up his jumper and began to undo the buttons, which was more than uncomfortable for him, but he still returned her passionate kisses. What else could he do? If he pulled away, she would get angry. His jumper was now completely undone and Ginny snaked her hands underneath his shirt to his bare hips. This was beyond weird. He had no clue why she was acting this way suddenly, until he heard a small, "Hi," from the end of the table.

Ginny pulled away and Dean's eyes opened to revealed a shy Margaux and a wide-eyed Derek Davies standing at the edge of the booth.

Ginny wiped her face off with her sleeve and said, "Oh, hi there, Mar! Didn't see you come in!"

It all made sense. Ginny had seen Margaux entered the tea shop and so she attacked Dean to make Margaux jealous. The only problem was, they had discussed the fact that making Margaux jealous would not work. So, who was she doing this for?

"Hi, Ginny," Margaux said quietly. "Hi Dean."

He nodded towards her, his face no doubt illustrating his mortification.

"No hello for me?" smiled Derek.

They all said hello to the fifth year Ravenclaw as Margaux placed her shopping bags on the table. Dean expected Ginny to say her goodbyes and leave the booth, but she remained seated, so there was no way for him to coax her away.

Dean met Lenore's eye and she stared at him with all the judgement she could muster. He knew she was disappointed in him, especially after their conversation to be low-key with Ginny. She was also probably annoyed that two people snogged right in front of her and her sister, but she soon broke Dean's eye contact and began warmly welcoming her sister and Derek.

Margaux looked absolutely stunning today. Short golden blonde hair carefully placed behind her ear, full pink lips smiling, and rosy cheeks from the bitter cold winds outdoors. She seemed to be in a good mood today, along with Derek. Dean was almost jealous that they were having a fun afternoon at Hogsmeade and he was stuck with Ginny.

"How are you today, Dean?" she smiled brightly at him.

His heart gave a single pang. "I'm great, why do you ask?"

"You're being quiet," she teased. "And you look miserable."

Dean could feel Ginny's glare burning his face.

"I'm perfectly happy," he returned her smile.

Her eyes twinkled as she watched him for an extra moment, before turning her eyes on her coat. Margaux slipped her arms out of her dark green peacoat and revealed a black buttoned down V-neck shirt underneath. Dean could feel his eyes nearly pop out of his head when he caught sight of her. No matter how hard he tried, he could not take his eyes off her round, perky, oh-so-perfect breasts in that tight black shirt. He had to stop. He knew he had to stop before she noticed. Or worse, if Ginny noticed. She would go mental and yell at him. Ginny's hand gripped his upper knee and he tore his eyes over to his girlfriend.

Shit. She saw him. And she did not look happy. Her ginger eyebrows furrowed in disgust and her jaw clenched. Thankfully she remained silent. Dean had expected her to yell, but she was quiet. That's what scared him the most about Ginny: her unpredictability.

"I bought candy for everyone!" Margaux smiled.

Dean managed to place his eyes on Margaux's face, rather than her spectacular body, and smiled. She really was the most kind and thoughtful person he knew. She reached into a cloth bag and pulled out a handful of candy.

"Derek already ate what I bought him—"

The boy groaned. "Not this lecture on patience again."

Margaux smiled and ignored him. "So, I have milk chocolate for Lenore… Dean, you can have this white chocolate… gummy candy for Neville… and sourballs for Ginny!"

Everyone thanked her, except Ginny, who pursed her lips and said, "I don't like sourballs."

"I…" Margaux looked around the table, obviously surprised at Ginny's haughty tone. "Oh, I'm sorry! It's Luna who likes sourballs, isn't it? Here! I've got some other flavors!"

She opened her bag even wider and Dean could see her breasts jiggle as she searched frantically for something to appease Ginny. Merlin, he had never seen her dress this way. Usually, Margaux was quite modest, but today… She must not have realized what she wore, or she was trying a new look. And boy, did she pull it off well.

"How about this raspberry thing?"

"No," Ginny replied.

"Do you like peanuts?"

"No."

"What about white chocolate?"

"Yuck."

Dean was starting to get annoyed with Ginny. When someone offers you something out of the goodness of their heart, you take it gratefully, whether you like it for not.

Margaux finally came up with black licorice for Ginny. The red haired girl once again looked over at Dean, who kept his eyes on Margaux's face this time. Still, Ginny did not appreciate not being the prettiest girl in the room. Dean knew she would never admit to that, but it was true. Ginny was easily threatened, which made no sense to him. He did not feel threatened by other men and he guessed most girls did not act that way around each other, but Ginny was insecure and it transposed as cruelty towards other females.

Her nose turned up in the air and her lips once again puffed out in to a sneer. She turned to Margaux and said, "I don't know how you keep your figure eating like that."

Everyone whipped their heads around to Margaux, who had her second piece of candy on her lips.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"The way you eat, you should be about three stone more than you already are."

Dean moved his eyes on everyone else at the table to verify he was not reading too much into this. Derek's mouth opened wide. Lenore, whose facial expressions were always obvious, flattened her brow and glared at Ginny. Even Neville shifted in discomfort.

"Oh," was all Margaux said.

Her face radiated sadness and Dean wanted to say something, but he was scared of Ginny. Finally, Lenore spoke up.

"Why is it any of your business how she eats?"

Dean swung his head around to Lenore. He loved when she got this way. The twinkle in her eye begged for a fight. Lenore arguments were always fun to watch, especially when she was defending her little sister. He recalled one time in their fourth year, an older boy made fun of Margaux's new haircut and Lenore completely obliterated this bloke by taunting him about his bald patch. Dean could not wait to see what she said to Ginny to take her down a peg.

"It's not my business," shrugged Ginny. "I'm just commenting."

"Mmm," said Lenore as her white fingers gripped her teacup with force. "Well, maybe keep comments like that to yourself before you give someone an eating disorder."

The entire table hung onto her every word. Dean and Derek made eye contact as they held back a squeal of excitement in anticipation of Ginny's reply.

"It's okay!" Margaux interrupted. "You're fine, Ginny, don't worry about it!"

Dean hung his shoulders. There would not be a fight today.

"Thank you, Mar," Ginny said as she pushed her licorice away from her.

"Do you not want that?" pointed Lenore.

Maybe there would be a fight. Hostility still sparkled behind Lenore's eye and Dean sat up again in hope.

Ginny looked up and down Lenore, as if checking her body over for imperfections. Dean was appalled. He made a note to speak with Ginny about that look later, but he forgot as soon as Ginny sneered, "Why, do you want it?"

"Me?" said Lenore. "Oh no, I don't want to deprive you of the opportunity to throw it up later."

Derek began laughing wildly. Neville gave Lenore a look that seemed to beg for her to calm down.

"Oh honey," Ginny smirked. "I'm not the one who used to be fat."

"Okay!" Margaux shouted. "Stop! Please!"

Margaux was the non-confrontational type, which was odd for a Gryffindor. She did not enjoy arguing nearly as much as her sister did.

"Please stop," she begged. "It's fine. Really. So, has anybody read any good books lately?"

Lenore's face shifted from anger to her usual calm self with a single blink, which vaguely frightened Dean. "Neville is reading a good book right now, about a famous Herbologist. I pick it up and read it when he's doing his homework."

"What book?" Margaux smiled kindly.

"I-it's called _The Heartlessness of Humankind_ ," he said.

Neville's eyes shifted between Lenore and Ginny. It appeared Lenore was over this fight, but Ginny still had a look of bitchiness on her face that almost never went away.

"I-It's an autobiography of Eloween Oberon, a Kenyan witch who travelled all over the word to discover a cure for what is essentially a rare form of wizarding heart disease. She finally found it in a tree root that grows in Argentina, but her discovery was stolen by an American man, Roger Finn, who took all the credit. The scientific community didn't figure out it was Oberon who discovered the cure until about forty years after it was mass produced as medicine. Everyone thought she was crazy and Finn effectively silenced her in the scientific community. She wrote this autobiography on her deathbed, when she found enough proof of her discovery to discredit Finn. But she didn't live long enough to see herself receive credit."

"Wow," Margaux said with wide eyes. "That's incredibly interesting. I'll have to read it."

The table fell silent as the nodding from others died down. Unfortunately, it was Ginny who decided to fill the silence. "Dean here doesn't read."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Yes, I do!"

"Not real books," she scoffed. "They've all got pictures."

Dean could not believe she was tearing him down this much. "Ginny! Those are paintings. It's a book about ancient Greek art."

"I've seen them," Margaux said quietly. "He reads books about famous artists and different art forms, right?"

Dean smiled appreciatively. "Yes."

"Sounds dumb to me," Ginny said.

"And what's the last book you read," Lenore asked, " _Go, Owl, Go_?"

Her reference to the children's book— not unlike _Go, Dog, Go_ , which Dean's littlest sister loved— did not go unnoticed. Again, Derek laughed loudly and Dean tried his best not to crack a smile. He forced a hand over his mouth but Ginny was too busy glaring at Lenore.

She forced her eyes to turn to Margaux. "Are you going to let you sister talk to your best friend like that?"

Margaux looked around. "I… Um… Well…"

"Or am I not your best friend anymore?"

Passive-aggression was one of Ginny's strong suits. She could twist her way through your brain with only words, like a bullet to the head. Everyone waited in silence for Margaux's reply.

"I… didn't realize we were that close," Margaux hesitated.

Ginny clenched her jaw. "Then who is your best friend?"

Margaux pointed to Derek. "Him and Luna."

Derek high-fived Margaux, until she continued. "We used to be really close, and I don't know what happened."

"I do!" Lenore cut in.

Dean moved his eyes towards the brunette sister as she said, "You're too focused on your boyfriend."

Ginny clutched her chest and gave an indignant scoff. "Well, at least boys at this school actually want to date me, unlike this muggle whore."

"GINNY!" Margaux shouted. "I can't believe you'd say that to me! After all we've been through!"

"Not enough to be your best friend."

"I've always been so kind to you while you treat me like shit!"

The two girls were now going at it so loud that the entire restaurant was glancing over at them. Dean wanted to take Ginny's arm and lead her out of the restaurant, away from where she could hurt Margaux, but there was no time to interrupt.

"You've been kind because that's all you have to offer!" Ginny shouted. "You're not smart, or fun, or even funny, Margaux! Blokes only pay attention to you because you're pretty and they think you'll put out if they talk to you!"

"Ginny!" interjected Dean.

He felt so helpless. He needed to protect Margaux from Ginny. She was positively insane tonight and Dean could not figure out why. He caught Margaux's eyes begging him for help, but all he could do was stare back at her forlorn. Her eyes welled with tears and she pouted her lip. Not a single word escaped her mouth, so Lenore took over.

"Ginny, you are the biggest bitch I've ever met," said Lenore cooly.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Am I?"

"You are. You're mean to other girls because you're jealous and you're mean to blokes to scare them into staying with you. You do all this for attention and at the end of the day, Ginny, you have no real friends and you have had no real relationships."

"Oh, so you're the relationship expert now?"

"No, all I'm saying is that Neville and I treat each other with respect. You trample over men and expect them to bow down to you, when in fact they only bow because you've broken their knee caps."

"That's not true!" Ginny shouted.

 _It was true_ , Dean thought.

"It is true," Margaux said through tears. "You trample over your friends, too!"

"Margaux, you're being a real cunt lately!" squealed Ginny. "You're jealous of me and Dean. Jealous that we're together and you don't get to flirt with him anymore!"

"I never flirted with Dean!" she screeched. Her light green tear-soaked eyes met his. "Dean, I never flirted with you."

His heart nearly stopped in confusion. He was conflicted. Part of him wanted to believe—no, pretend— that Margaux had flirted with him. Every so often, he still saw the little spark behind her eye that told him one day she could fancy him, the way he fancied her. But reality always ripped that spark away. And right now, as Margaux stood at the end of the wooden table, staring at him with flooded eyes, he knew she had never flirted with him.

"No," he said as his throat dried up. "No, you didn't."

Ginny glared at Dean, before turning back to Margaux. "When you wear a shirt that low-cut, you can't expect me not to call you a slag."

Margaux glanced down at her chest, then covered her skin with her hands. "I… I like this shirt! I wear this for me, not for people to stare at me!"

"They aren't staring at you, honey! They're staring at your tits!"

Margaux began crying even harder and Lenore stepped in once more. "Ginny, why don't you go fuck off? You weren't even invited to lunch. Get out of this booth and leave us alone."

"Lenore, you can't tell me what to do!" Ginny slammed her hand down on the table. "I'm not leaving! Dean and I were Neville's friends before you!"

"I don't fucking care, Neville can leave, too!" shrieked Lenore. "But you better not insult my sister again."

Ginny looked at Neville, who clearly began panicking. "Alright, so what's it gonna be? Are you going to kick out your best mates or some girl?"

"Ginny!" Lenore cut in. "That's not fair to him! He's not involved in this in anyway."

"No," she shook her head. "Neville, decide. Who is leaving? Me and Dean or Lenore and the other two?"

Neville opened his mouth but no words came out. His scared eyes darted from Lenore to Ginny. He was not used to being around this much drama and the events of the last ten minutes must have taken a toll on him. After a split second, Lenore stood up. "I'll just go, Nev, it's okay. If you need me, I'll be with Mar and Derek. I'm not cross with you."

"No," he grabbed her hand. "Ginny is in the wrong."

Ginny's mouth fell open. When she whipped her head around to exit the booth, Dean nodded in agreement with Neville. "Sorry, mate," he whispered to Neville.

Ginny shoved Margaux as the exited the booth and Derek caught her under the arms before she fell on the carpet. Ginny was at the door before Dean could even react. He helped Margaux upright and their eyes met. She looked at him with all the sadness in the world and he said, without thinking, "Mar, I'm so sorry. I'm really sorry. I'll try to talk to her. Really, I'm on your side one-hundred per cent. I—"

"DEAN!"

Dean shot a glance towards Ginny. He gave Margaux a short hug, which he knew Ginny would kill him for. "I'm so sorry," he said as he felt her body heave with a shallow sob.

"DEAN THOMAS!"

He pulled away and met Margaux's betrayed eyes. One more final whisper of "I'm sorry," and he left her standing in the frilly tea shop, while the cold bitter winds of the outdoors surrounded his every sense.

 **.**

 **Lenore's POV**

Neville immediately turned to Lenore. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have hesitated. It doesn't matter who it was, she was cruel to Margaux and that wasn't right." He shifted his gaze to Margaux, who now had tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mar. Are you okay?"

Lenore nudged Neville's thigh and shoved him over in the booth. She held out her arms for her little sister to crawl into. Margaux hugged Lenore in a warm embrace and cried onto her shoulder. Derek silently took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"Shh, honey," whispered Lenore, "it's okay. Really."

"No it's not," she whined. "Len, everything is going so wrong lately."

Lenore placed her cheek on the top of Margaux's head. "Why do you say that?"

"B-b-because nothing is going right. Ginny is being so awful. I don't even want to be friends with her anymore. Michael is also annoying and I want to break up with him but he loves me. And I just want to be friends with Dean again. He's being so weird ever since I kissed him. I assume he told you?"

Lenore nodded. "He told me."

Margaux screamed into her sister's shoulder. "I hate myself. I can't believe I did that."

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's fine."

Lenore debated whether or not to just come out and tell Margaux about Dean's crush on her. In some ways, it would be better, others it would be worse. As Margaux sobbed, Lenore leaned over to Neville. He placed his ear next to her mouth and she softly whispered, "Should I tell her about Dean?"

Neville shook his head vigorously.

She returned to his ear. "Neville, I really think it would help. And I could just say—"

"What are you whispering about?" Margaux whined.

"Nothing," she said, immediately moving away from Neville. "But Mar… Dean really values you. And when you kissed him… He got confused. You confused him. He wants to be friends with you again, to be close to you again, but right now he's exploring himself. I don't know why he thinks Ginny is a good way to explore himself. Do you know why she's acting like this all of a sudden?"

"It's been going on since last year," Margaux whined. "She thinks she's so much older than Luna and me, like she wants to pretend she's more mature, when the fact is, I've kissed more blokes than she has."

"She's jealous," said Derek, who had been unusually quiet during this exchange.

"No," Margaux argued.

"Yes," both Lenore and Derek said at the same time.

Derek continued. "She doesn't like that you get more attention from males. Ginny is beautiful in her own way, but you're beautiful in the traditional sense and she doesn't like that."

"It's because she wants to be beautiful in that traditional sense," said Lenore. "Trust me, I've felt it before."

"Guys, I'm not that pretty," Margaux said. "Can we just stop talking about it?"

"Mar," Lenore rolled her eyes. "You're blonde. You're athletic. You've got boobs. You're tan. You can open magazines and see girls who look like you. Tons of other girls can't."

"And that makes me boring. I don't stand out."

Derek and Lenore laughed with mockery.

"Honey," said Derek, "you could walk up to any single guy at Hogwarts and snog him within seconds."

"Everybody can do that," she groaned.

Derek grew quiet. "You think I can do that? You think I can walk up to any guy I want and start flirting with him? I would get punched in the face, Margaux. Hogwarts may be a pretty tolerable place, especially for purebloods like me, but I constantly have to watch my back. Masculinity is fragile and if I flirt with the wrong guy… People like me die every day for it."

Margaux sat up and looked at Derek. She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "You're right. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," he gave her a sad smile.

"Mar, you are gorgeous," Lenore said. "You can do whatever you want. You could do whatever you want even if you were ugly. Nobody is stopping you."

Margaux groaned. "I need advice. What do you think I should do?"

Lenore started to open her mouth, but Margaux cut her off. "No, I'm not asking you. Neville and Derek, what should I do?"

"Why aren't you asking me?" Lenore demanded.

"You don't give me very good advice."

"I give you great advice!"

Margaux ignored her with a small smile to Neville. "What should I do?"

"I… I think… I really don't like giving advice, because I never do anything right myself."

She sat up straight. "What would you do if Lenore had turned you down?"

He glanced at Lenore. "I-I would have tried to move on. B-but I don't think you need to worry too much about moving on, because you don't seem to really fancy Michael. I think you need to break up with Michael for the first step. You obviously don't fancy him and it's cruel to lead him on. A-and then I would explore people. Don't date anyone, but you know… snog people."

Lenore turned to him."If I hadn't fancied you, you would have gone on a snog-spree?"

"N-no, but Margaux seems like the type to want to do that."

"Are you calling my sister a slag?" Lenore laughed.

"No! Merlin, no. S-sorry. Margaux, I-I just meant you should go out and have fun. Whatever your definition of 'fun' is, do it."

Margaux laughed. "Actually, my definition of fun is snogging blokes, so he was right. What do you think Derek?"

"Neville is one-hundred per cent right. But more emphasis on the dating around. I want you to break up with Michael, today, and then go out and snog someone. Today."

"But he won't get the letter for a week!"

"Alright, next Saturday. This is perfect. I'm throwing a little party in my dorm room. You're going to snog somebody at my party next week."

"Who are you inviting?"

"Mostly Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. You two are invited, as well, if you want to come," Derek pointed to Lenore and Neville.

Lenore took her teacup away from her lips. "Oh… as much as I'd like to see my own sister seduce a man, I'm going to have to pass."

"Alright," Margaux sighed. "I'll do it. Derek, help me write the letter when we get back."

He rubbed his hands together. "Gladly."

Margaux sighed once more and leaned into Lenore's shoulder. She closed her eyes. "Why is getting older so much more difficult?"

"It only gets harder," Lenore said.

The three other people groaned, so she argued, "What? It does! You know it does!"

Margaux let out a low noise of annoyance. "I know it does."

She removed herself from Lenore and sat down next to Derek

"Miss Henry!"

The table of four shifted their eyes to Professor Slughorn heading towards their table.

"Bloody hell," Derek said as he hid his face.

"I believe I should clarify!" Slughorn said with a grin on his face. "The younger Miss Henry. Although, I must congratulate the elder Miss Henry on an eloquently written essay last week."

Lenore blushed and said a simple thank you.

"And hello Mr. Longbottom, how are you doing today?"

"I-I'm fine, sir," he stammered.

Slughorn gave a short nod, then turned his gaze to Derek, who was obviously avoiding his professor's eye. "Ah! Dagwood! Did you… did you ever complete the essay I gave you that extension on?"

"No, sir," Derek cringed. "Still… still working on it."

Another nod from Slughorn and an uncomfortable smile.

"Anyway," he perked up, "I came to ask Margaux a question. I noticed you seem to be down lately. I was wondering if I could give you a special task for the Slughorn?"

Lenore felt a twinge of jealously, although could not explain why.

"What is it, sir?"

"You… will be planning our Halloween party! Every member is invited, of course—" He tilted his head towards Lenore and Neville. When he saw Derek, his smile faltered once more as he said, "—as well as a date, if they so choose. This will be smaller than the Christmas party and much more relaxed. I daresay more fun, if you like that kind of thing. I was hoping to count you in on the planning, Margaux. You mentioned in class that you were thinking about becoming a mathematician or an event planner."

"Yes, sir, it would be an honor!" she beamed.

"Perfect!" Slughorn clapped his hands together. "We'll talk more on Monday. Until then."

He smiled at Margaux, then said. "Good day, Henry… Longbottom… Dagwood."

As Slughorn exited the tea shop clutching a blueberry scone, Margaux began laughing. "He calls you by your roommate's name?"

"I'm not fuckin' correcting him, that's for certain," Derek awed. "If he wants to think Dagwood is the incompetent one, that's fine with me."

"What does he call Dagwood?"

"Bukowski."

"Why doesn't he call you by your last name?"

"I'm not questioning the old geezer's mind. Maybe he thinks Dagwood is a last name."

The rest of the afternoon went off without a hitch. Margaux got to know her sister's… not boyfriend, but… kind of. Lenore had no idea what to call Neville. Sometimes she really wanted to ask him to define their relationship. The "B" word, meaning "boyfriend," had never crossed his lips and she did not know how to broach the subject, and besides, defining their status would most likely scare the piss out of her. She wanted to keep things casual for now.

The group braved the freezing sleet during a covered carriage ride back to the castle, where they parted ways— Margaux and Derek to the Ravenclaw tower and Neville and Lenore towards the Gryffindor common room.

"That was fun," smiled Lenore.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm worried about Dean and Ginny, though."

Lenore nodded. "So am I. I mean—"

But the was cut off by a screech of her name.

"LENORE!" Alicia emerged from the crowd of people, looking shaken and frantic. She grabbed Lenore's hand and shouted, "Come on!"

"What's wrong?" she shouted over the noise.

"No time!"

Lenore allowed Alicia to drag her through the hallways, her hand still attached to Neville, who followed the two. "What's happened?" Lenore asked.

"Katie!" was all she could shout. "Katie's been injured! She's in the hospital!"

Lenore blinked once and the room seemed to spin. "What? Did something happen at Hogsmeade?"

"I don't know!" Tears streamed down Alicia's face. "She spent today with Leanne. They are both in the hospital wing right now."

"Where were you?"

Alicia choked back a sob. "With Anthony."

Lenore looked at Neville, whose face reflected her own worry. "You don't know what happened?"

"Ask Leanne!"

"How bad is she hurt?"

"Apparently really bad. Leanne's brother had to come tell me and I ran into you on my way! Hurry up!"

The three rushed into the hospital wing, slamming the two large oak doors wide open. Alicia peeled back the curtains, and there, at the end of the ward, laid Katie Bell, white as a ghost and staring at the ceiling without blinking. Her mouth hung slightly ajar and she did not move. Lenore's heart stopped. She couldn't be dead, could she? No, that was silly. Katie could not be dead. It was just a simple trip to Hogsmeade, how bad could it have been?

The three grew closer to Leanne Kuang, who sat in a chair next to the bed and held Katie's hand.

"Is she okay?" Alicia shouted.

"Shhh!" A said through tears. "She's okay for now. She's in shock."

"Shock?" Alicia asked.

Leanne nodded. "That's what Madame Pomphrey said."

Numbness encapsulated Lenore's body. She felt nothing but her own heartbeat keeping her steady. Katie, ghost-white with lifeless eyes, did not move to greet her visitors.

"She—she's alive, right?" Lenore finally asked.

"Yes," Leanne said. "Barely, for a while there."

Lenore was now shaking, every limb of her body trembling, but she did not cry, unlike Leanne and Alicia. Leanne sobbed loud and powerful, each gasp telling Lenore the guilt she felt, but the reason was unknown. Alicia, who Lenore had only ever seen cry once, also gasped in between anguished sobs. Only Lenore was quiet, alongside Neville, who stood frozen, staring down at Katie, a blank look in his eye.

"Where's Madam Pomphrey?" Neville asked Leanne.

"S-s-she's gone to the storeroom for more m-m-medicine," Leanne stammered out as she wailed.

Neville shifted his gaze to Lenore, his eyes desperate to say something and Lenore knew it. "What?" she whispered to him.

"Lenore," he whispered as he crouched down to her ear, "I-I don't want to worry you, but… she looks like my mum."

"Like… your mum?"

He nodded slowly and Lenore finally realized what he meant. Katie looked like his mother in St. Mungo's hospital. His mother, who had her memory and intelligence and capability wiped from her brain. Lenore glanced down at Katie, her eyes relaxed and empty at she stared at the ceiling.

"No," Lenore shook her head. "No. That… that can't… Neville, oh god."

He gulped and laid a hand across her back on her upper arm. "S-she's just in shock, though. But she was hit with a curse like my parents. Maybe not the Cruciatus Curse, but something of that caliber."

"What do you think then, the Imperius Curse?"

Neville examined Katie. "I… I would guess something like that."

Lenore gasped, but before she could say anything, Madam Pomphrey swung open the doors to the hospital wing. As soon as her eyes landed on Alicia, Lenore, and Neville, she began screeching.

"You three! Get out! Miss Bell doesn't need prying eyes on her while she's like this!"

"But we're her friends!"

Madam Pomphrey "Dumbledore and Professor Snape will be in soon and I don't need you three in here while they are! Get out! It'll get me in trouble. Miss Bell will survive, I promise you. Miss Kuang brought her in here, but you three must leave. I insist."

"I am not leaving!" Alicia sobbed. "She's my friend!"

Madam Pomphrey crossed her arms. "I must insist you leave! Headmaster Dumbledore will not—"

At the moment, the doors to the hospital wing sprung open, revealing Professors Dumbledore and Snape.

"Poppy," Dumbledore directed at the matron, "we must be alone with Miss Bell. Professor Snape will analyze her mind."

Madam Pomphrey gathered a sobbing Leanne under her arm as she glared at Lenore, Alicia, and Neville to leave. The three obeyed and turned for the door, until Lenore gathered the courage to say, "Professor Snape?"

The professor's black hair swung over his shoulder as he turned to view Lenore, who managed to bite her cheek and look the intimidating man in the eye.

"Neville says Katie might have been hit with an unforgivable curse. Possibly the Imperius Curse or something of that nature."

Snape looked her up and down and she felt her nerve slipping away. "And how does Longbottom know this?"

Lenore glanced at Neville, who obviously disliked the attention from his most feared professor. "He… he said she looks like his mum."

Snape eyes almost seemed to soften, but only subtly and for a brief flash. He gave Lenore a single nod and turned back to Dumbledore without so much as a glance toward Neville.

The pair met Alicia in the hallway. She paced the corridor with heavy strides, tears still in her eyes.

"Are you going to wait out here?" Lenore asked.

The girl nodded absent-mindedly.

Lenore took a seat on the ground. "I am, too."

Alicia did not acknowledge her, but instead she turned on her heels and paced the other direction. Neville sat down next to Lenore. "C-can I wait with you?"

Lenore nodded. "But you don't have to. Don't feel obligated to stay."

"I… I don't," he said. "I want to be here for you. For Katie."

Lenore nodded and stared at a single crack in a tile between her feet. Alicia was now about ten meters away, pacing circles around a bench.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked gently.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah. I'm… I'm just worried."

Neville tilted his head to get a better view of her face. "Are you crying?"

Lenore shifted her face toward his. "No," she said. "No, I don't feel anything right now."

"You don't feel anything?"

She shook her head. "Nothing but worry and numbness."

"Numbness?"

"Yeah. Like numbness in the brain."

Neville nodded as if he understood, but he was very obviously confused.

"I feel scared," she said. "And when I'm scared, I can't cry. I just shut down. I have to block everything from my mind and focus on how to solve this issue. I can't waste time crying."

"I-is there anything I can do to help?" asked Neville.

She shook her head. "Just give me time to think. And don't try to talk about emotions with me."

"Of course," he said at once.

"Can I sit closer to you?"

"Yes. Of course," he repeated.

Instead of sitting next to him, as he expected, Lenore scooted between his bent legs and rested her back on his stomach. She laid her head on his shoulder and she could tell she was making him nervous, but at this moment, she did not care. All she needed was the comfort of touch, like he had wanted when he placed his head against her thigh during his sick days. Neville wrapped his arms loosely around her and she tightened his hold on her, before crossing her own arms and clutching his forearms. He nuzzled his head next to hers and the pair sat like that, absorbed in each other's warmth for what felt like an eternity.

His chest rose and fell in even intervals, which comforted Lenore's own rapid inhalation. Neville did not try anything, which still surprised her. While other blokes may have used this as an opportunity to kiss her or feel up her body, Neville merely held her, filling her mind with security and assuagement. He did not move, nor attempt to speak, but rather he understood that all she needed was him, not his words nor his touch, but instead she needed to feel his soul next to hers.

Lenore knew that sentiment was gooey and mushy and overly romantic and the thought of it made her want to puke, but it was true. She needed to feel another human being next to her to know she was alive and this was real. After a long time, she kissed his neck once and whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?" he breathed.

"For always being there for me."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her and remained quiet, but Lenore knew her words had a great affect on him. His eyes closed and she could feel his warm sigh roll over her skin. Her heart gave a single violent pang when she realized exactly how much he liked her.

"I admire you," she whispered. "A lot."

"I admire you, too," he returned the quiet tone. "You're so strong."

"Thanks," she exhaled. "I wonder what they are talking about in there."

"Snape is probably using legilimency on her."

"I hope he can figure out who did this to her."

Neville rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I hope so, too."

Lenore closed her eyes and the pair sat in near silence for probably an hour, watching Alicia pace and basking in each other's comfort. With only a half hour left until curfew, Dumbledore and Snape finally emerged from the hospital wing without a word to the three teenagers in the hallway. When they turned a corner, Alicia sprinted through the doors with only one care in the world and Lenore followed.

Alicia knelt down at Katie's bedside and wept once more. Katie's eyes were now shut and she rested peacefully. She did not look as white as before and her face no longer showed fear. Lenore felt a tear well up in the corner of her eye, but she shut that down before it could hit her cheek.

"She'll be okay, right?" Lenore asked Madam Pomphrey.

The older woman nodded. "She needs rest."

"What happened to her?" Alicia demanded.

"She…" Madam Pomphrey glanced around, as if searching for eavesdroppers. "She was hit with the Imperius curse."

The girls gasped and Neville gulped. Lenore turned her gaze on him and frowned.

"I can't say any much more," Madam Pomphrey said. "But while under the curse, she touched an enchanted amulet. It was intended to kill, but only reached her through a small hole in her glove, so the charm did not have its full effect."

Alicia and Leanne wept harder. Lenore put on a brave face and nodded.

"You all sit with her and be quiet. I have some paperwork to fill out in the back. Let Miss Bell get some much needed rest. She will be moved to Saint Mungo's hospital tonight at ten-fifteen."

All three faces whipped up to the matron.

"How long will she be there?" Lenore asked.

Madam Pomphrey stared at the ground. "At this time… we don't know. It could be anywhere from a few weeks to a few months."

"A few months!" Alicia shouted. "She doesn't look that awful!"

"There is always a chance for brain damage," Madam Pomphrey said sullenly. "And she'll have to relearn how to move her limbs. Miss Bell is lucky to be alive, that is for sure. In a few months time, she is expected to make a full recovery, but the road there will not be easy. She will have to fight. But she's a strong girl, I have faith she can do it. You all can stay with her until the healers are here. I'll write you notes for missing curfew."

With that, Madam Pomphrey disappeared into her office at the back of the wing. Alicia and Leanne continued to cry, but Lenore sat on the ground and gently clutched Katie's hand. She circled the girl's skin with her thumb and began to whisper to her.

"Hi, Katie," she whispered in the direction of Katie's ear. "I hope you're doing alright. That must have hurt."

Lenore kept her eyes on Katie's shoulder, but she could feel Neville watching her while the other two girls cried and discussed their feelings.

"I know it hurt," Lenore breathed to Katie. "But it's okay. You're alive. You're here. You beat that curse like the bad bitch you are. You beat it worse than when your quaffle hit Graham Montague last year and knocked him off his broomstick. That was one of the greatest games I've ever been to, even if Gryffindor dominated us. You're so strong Katie and I know you'll recover quickly. You have to. You're the best one of us. And you're my best friend. If something happens to you, who would I have to make fun of Pansy with? You'll be fine. It'll all be fine. I'm here for you, if I can do anything. I'll write you letters while you're in the hospital. I'll even visit you over Christmas break if you're still in there. I'll miss you so much. I'll keep you updated on the ridiculous things Pansy says. I love you, honey. You'll make a full recovery, I know it."

Lenore moved her eyes towards her hand, which adoringly circled the back of Katie's hand. She rested the side of her head on Katie's metal bed frame and closed her eyes. When Alicia began talking to Katie, Lenore moved away to give her some privacy. She moved to the foot of Katie's bed and coerced Neville to hold her once more. He hugged her from behind and the pair stood like that, talking with Alicia and Leanne about how to help Katie. They would write a letter to Angelina Johnson, decorate cards for Katie, and perhaps send her packages of goodies.

As the healers took Katie away on a stretcher, Lenore felt no tears. She felt nothing and she could not explain why. Actually, she could. She knew this is how her body handled stress: it simply shut down. She would cry about this later, but now was not the time. She focused her entire energy on memorizing this moment, so she would never forget the pain and sadness that she felt seeing her best friend carted off by healers.

She would not see Katie until at least Christmas Break, she accepted that. But what she had not accepted was that this was real. That if she had just been there with Katie and Leanne, instead of Neville, this may not have happened. Surely Lenore would have gone to the bathroom with Katie at the Three Broomsticks, as Leanne had told the story. Lenore and Katie went everywhere together. The bathroom was social hour. If Lenore had just been there…

"Lenore, are you alright?"

She snapped out of her daze and realized she was no longer in the hospital room, but rather she walked back towards the Slytherin dungeons with Neville. She nodded shortly in reply.

"Have you cried at all?"

She shook her head.

Neville bent down at examine her face, which stared at the floor. "Do you want to? I really think you should."

"Nev," she said quietly, "that's not how it works. I can't make myself cry."

"I think you could, if you really wanted to."

She flicked her eyes up to meet his. "But I don't want to, don't you get it? If I cry… then it's real. Then it's over. Then I've failed to find something to keep me occupied until I solve this problem. I can't cry. Not yet. I will soon, but not right now."

He merely nodded and scooped a piece of hair behind her ear.

She sighed. "Neville, you're so nice to me. Really, thank you for… thank you for just caring. I…"

She trailed off and instead wrapped her arms around him. He clutched her tighter than she had ever felt, but it was not his grip that was tight, it was the pure comfort the hug offered that was overwhelming. She felt like she was melting in his arms, and he was the only thing keeping her upright. She had never felt this much affection for the boy until tonight. He proved to her that he would be there for her even when things got tough. He was selfless, reassuring, and most importantly, understanding towards her and her emotions. Her sigh rolled over his shirt and she fell even deeper into his warm embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for being so nice to me."

"It's alright, Len," he murmured. "It's no problem."

"I don't know what I would do if we weren't dating."

"You'd probably still come talk to me about it."

She smiled for the first time in what seemed like hours. "I would."

Neville clutched her tighter. "I know you don't want to talk right now, but if you ever do… I'm here for you. I'll drop everything whenever you need to talk about this. I don't want you to have to deal with this alone, like you had to with Raquel."

Lenore nodded into his chest. "I appreciate you."

After a moment of complete bliss, she pulled away. "I'm going to go back to my room and try to sleep. I… I think I need to be alone for a little while."

Neville nodded sadly. "Of course. Just remember, I'm here for you."

She smiled and kissed his lips tenderly. "Thank you."

With that, Lenore crawled into her bed in the Slytherin dungeons, placed a silencing charm so she would not hear her roommates, and drew her bed curtains. But sleep would be a rare commodity that night.


	30. Chapter 30: Snog by the Lake

**GET READY FOR SOME SMUT, KIDS. (also sorry I haven't written in a while, but this chapter is extra long. leave a review, I appreciate you all!)**

 **.**

 **Margaux's POV**

Ankur Puri was a boy of many titles— smartest male in 5th year, captain of the chess club, drug dealer, but most notably, prefect. Ankur, however, was possibly the worst choice for a prefect a professor could ever hope for, as he was currently drunk off his ass on top of his bedside table as twenty-five other intoxicated bodies milled about his dormitory. It was an early party, starting at 6 p.m. after classes, but Derek wanted everyone out of his room before curfew at 10 p.m. In the corner, Margaux sat with Derek Davies, Colin Creevey, Richie Coote, and Jack Sloper.

"Did'ja see Puddlemere United's poor show yesterday? Sorry excuse for a quidditch league," slurred Derek.

"Tanner Friend needs uh be cut from thuh team, I'm tellin' ya, mate," returned Richie.

"What about that head coach? Mack's gotta go," added Colin.

Only Margaux and Jack sat in silence. Margaux's mind was not on this party. It had not been on anything this week except the letter she had written her boyfriend last Saturday, detailing their breakup. She had not yet heard from Michael, which worried her. And yet, at the same time, she feel freer than she had in months. Margaux knew she was not a fan of strict, monogamous relationships, especially at this age. Perhaps when she was older, she would grow more used to the dynamic, but for now, the only person she wanted to worry about was herself.

Jack was silent because quidditch left a bad taste in his mouth. In Fred and George's absence last spring, he took over the position of beater, along with Andrew Kirke. The pair were as incompetent as could be, but they tried their best, so Margaux did not fault them for losing the Hufflepuff match last year. Tonight, however, Jack was staring at her an awful lot. Perhaps because she was the only girl in the group. In fact, this entire party seemed to be very testosterone-heavy, as only six girls were in attendance.

Margaux glanced up at Jack, who nodded along with Colin's assertion that the team would only succeed if they received a better position during the draft. It was for the first time that Margaux noticed how much Jack looked like Blaise Zabini. Dark, glowing skin, intense eyes, tall, and just a tad muscular. However, Jack was loads friendlier than Zabini, as well as more positive and outgoing. He really was attractive, especially with his fun personality.

"What do you think, Mar?" Jack smiled to her.

She snapped out of her daze and tore her eyes away from his body and to his eyes. "About what?"

"About Puddlemere United?"

"Are we still on that?"

"Yes!" Derek said. "There's a lot to discuss. Just because you two prohibitionists didn't want to drink doesn't mean you can't participate in conversation."

"Actually, it kind of does," Margaux argued, "because I can't understand a bloody word Ritchie is saying."

"Hey!" the boy asserted. "I'm talkin' just fine, ya wazzock."

"There you go with that Northern slang," she grinned. "Nobody knows what you mean, Yorkie."

Ritchie crossed his arms, but smiled. "Fine, take the piss."

"I'd say you're pretty pissed already," she said, referring to his drunken state.

He took another swing of his beer. "True."

"Don't you have practice in the morning?"

"I'll get over it," he shrugged.

"Until you're throwing up in that satin bonnet you wear under your helmet," Jack laughed.

Richie ran a hand over his large pile of curly hair. "Mate, don't disrespect the 'fro."

Jack smiled, then turned back to Margaux. "So, how's your life going? You seem to be quiet."

"I'm fine," she said.

"She just broke up with her boyfriend," Derek interjected.

Margaux whipped her head around to her friend. "Derek!"

"You had a boyfriend?" Jack asked. "Who?"

"He's a muggle," she waved. "It's fine. I didn't fancy him all that much. I've been wanting to break up with him for months."

"Oh," Jack smiled warmly. "Well, my condolences."

She rolled her eyes. "Please offer some congratulations instead."

"Cheers, then," he laughed. "You're a free woman."

"Thank God."

"So what else are you up to?"

Margaux noticed Derek, Ritchie, and Colin had all begun a new conversation, while Jack still paid attention to her. "I'm planning Slughorn's Halloween party."

"Really?" he said. "For Slug Club?"

"Yep."

"When is it?"

Margauc squinted. "Tomorrow. On Halloween."

"Oh," Jack chuckled. "Shoot, yeah, that makes sense."

Margaux laughed. "The only problem is, Slughorn insisted it be couple-costume-themed."

"And you don't have a date."

"No. And he insisted I bring a real date, not Luna."

"So, you're only at this party to scope out a date?" he laughed.

She shrugged. "At Derek's insistance."

"Why don't you bring Derek?"

Margaux thought a moment. "Oh, I forgot, I can't. Slughorn hates Derek. He doesn't even know his correct name. Also, Derek is a terrible student."

Jack smiled. "Well then, you'll just have to keep looking."

Margaux adjusted her body so she sat next to him against the wall. "Scan the room," she said. "Who should I go with?"

Jack glanced around. "Jimmy Peakes?"

"No."

"Ambrose Livingston?"

"No."

"I could set you up with Andrew."

Margaux laughed. "No, thank you."

"How about me?"

Margaux glanced at him. She examined his body language, which was relaxed and friendly.

"Just as friends, of course. I don't feel that way towards you. I just want to see all the conceited wankers in Slug Club try to out-wanker each other."

Margaux grinned. "That will be a show, won't it?"

"Hopefully."

"Alright," she said. "You can come. But don't annoy me."

"When have I ever annoyed you?" he laughed.

"Quite a bit, actually."

Another laugh from him. "Sorry. But you'll just have to get over it, unless you want to show up to that party wearing both halves of the couple costume."

"I would have no problem doing that," she crossed her arms.

"Well, too late," he played. "I've already started thinking of ideas."

"Like what?"

"Stick with me on this— we both stuff a giant ball under our shirts, then make one-half of a bra and—"

"You want me to dress up as a pair of tits?" she laughed loudly.

"Alright, alright, you can be salt, I'll be pepper."

"Why, because I'm salty?"

"Yes. And you're white."

She smiled and scoffed. "More ideas, please."

"You're Eve, I'm Adam."

"They wore no clothes."

Jack shrugged, so Margaux smacked his arm as he chuckled. "You're American, so you can be Jerry Springer, and I'll be the British equivalent."

"You're going to dress up as Jeremy Kyle?"

"I could."

She laughed again. "No, but I like the celebrity angle."

"We'll figure it out later. What I'm trying to figure out right now is how this is the most we've ever talked."

"I know!" she said. "Considering we're in the same house and the same year. I don't know. I don't know if we've ever had a one-on-one conversation like this, we're always in a group."

"Yeah, it's weird," he agreed. "Still friends with Ginny, right?"

Margaux cringed. "Mmm… not at the moment, no."

"Oh," Jack looked surprised. "Sorry. Forget I brought it up."

"Nah, it's fine. We're just going through a rough patch."

Jack nodded, obviously trying not to pry, so Margaux changed the subject. "So why didn't you try out for quidditch this year?"

"Because I'm not very good, am I?" he strained a smile.

She shrugged. "I think you tried your best. I don't fault you for it."

"Alright, well that makes one person who doesn't blame me for it."

"Nah," she said. "The Hufflepuffs love you."

"Because I won the game for them," he groaned.

Margaux nudged his shoulder with hers. "Who cares? It's over. Don't worry about it."

"You're the one who brought it up," he laughed.

"You're the one who hit your own captain in the face with a quaffle."

Jack looked throughly embarrassed, so Margaux giggled. "Sorry."

"It's alright," he brightened up. "It is kind of funny, isn't it?"

"I think it's hilarious."

He chuckled. "So why aren't you drinking?"

She shrugged. "I"m not a huge fan of it. I have to be in the mood to drink. Why aren't you?"

"The exact same reason."

"I'll drive you to drinking if I keep bringing up your quidditch days."

"I'll write this down in my Alcohol Anonymous journal. 'It all began when a little blonde girl wouldn't stop bringing up my failures…'"

"I'm not a little girl, I'm definitely a few months older than you."

"You are a whole head shorter than me."

"Alright, yeah. You know, I don't even think I know who your friends are? Is it Andrew, Ritchie, and Jimmy?"

"Mostly, yeah," he said. "Andrew's my best mate. Ritchie and I have a lot in common. Jimmy's a good friend, too. Your friends are Derek, Luna, and formerly Ginny?"

"My best mates, yeah. I'm friends with my roommates and Colin. And kind of Seamus and Dean."

"Dean Thomas?"

"Yeah."

"Weren't you two a couple?"

Margaux visibly retreated. "No! What?"

"Oh," he said. "Never mind. I just thought you two were at one point."

"Why would you think that?"

He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "You were just close friends, never mind."

Margaux relaxed once more. "Yeah, just friends. Did we give off that vibe of being together?"

Jack nodded. "I always thought so."

Margaux shook her head. "That's exactly what Ginny said. She said we would flirt. But we didn't."

"Is that part of why you aren't friends right now? Because she's dating Thomas?"

Margaux nodded. "Part of it. We aren't fighting over a boy, though. How lame would that be? She's just being bratty lately and that accusation is part of the overall brattiness."

Jack nodded sympathetically. "I understand. I always thought you and Dean would be good together, though."

Margaux thought a moment. "I guess. I don't feel that way about him, though."

"Do you fancy anyone right now?"

"No," she said. "And I don't want to. I'm trying not to be monogamous. What about you?"

"No. I'm also not looking for anyone."

"Wait," she said, "weren't you dating someone last year? Who was it?"

"Essie Kuang."

Margaux gasped. "Leanne's sister?"

"Yep."

"I remember now! What happened there? If you don't mind me asking."

Jack looked down at his hands and fiddled with his fingers. "I really fancied her, but she didn't feel the same. Or, she did, but then she didn't. We dated for seven months, which isn't that long, but…"

"No, it is a long time," Margaux said gently.

"She broke up with me around the time I was getting so much heat for being a terrible quidditch player, so that made it worse."

"Aww, Jack, I'm sorry."

"It's alright. It was bound to happen sometime. Her parents hated me anyway."

Margaux smiled. "Why?"

"They said I wasn't Asian enough."

Her smile quickly faded. "What?"

"My mum's family is Chinese. You can't tell by my eyes?"

"What?" she examined his face. "No?"

He gave her a disbelieving look. "You must not be very observant."

She crossed her arms. "Everybody looks different, Jack. Nowadays anybody could be anything."

Jack tilted his head. "You're right. But yeah, they just didn't like me."

"But Leanne was dating a white guy last year."

Jack smiled. "They didn't like him either."

Margaux laughed. "Well, it's her loss. You seem like a nice guy."

He bit his cheek. "Thanks. Anyway, how's your week been going?"

She smiled at his awkward attempt to change the subject. The pair rattled on about their lives for the rest of the evening. Margaux was shocked Jack was this nice. She had never really talked to him much before tonight. In the back of her mind, she heard Derek's voice telling her to snog him, but she did not want to send him the wrong message. He seemed to just want to be her friend. The two got on rather well, laughing at each other's jokes, understanding each other's muggle references, and finding interest in each other's lives. Around eight p.m., as the gathering broke up much earlier than expected, Jack walked with her back towards the Gryffindor Tower, laughing all the way until she had to tell him to be quiet. They paused in the empty common room while other partygoers snuck upstairs.

"So then Binns gave me detention," Margaux said, concluding her tale of calling a Slytherin girl a "dumb floozy."

Jack laughed. "Sounds like she really got on your nerves."

"It's not hard to get on my nerves," Margaux smiled.

"Have I gotten on your nerves yet?" he played.

"Not yet."

Silence fell between the pair as they stared at each other in amused enchantment. Margaux watched Jack's gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips, making from stomach churn. He was standing so close to her and he seemed to want to be even nearer. He leaned towards her face the tiniest bit and on a whim, she closed their distance and kissed him once on the lips. After a couple seconds of bliss, she pulled away and she could feel her cheeks grow hot.

"Shit, sorry. Just friends."

"Don't worry about it," he smiled. "I didn't mind."

She rolled her eyes. "No, you wouldn't, would you?"

"Nope."

"I need to stop kissing people," she said. "All it does is confuse them. I don't fancy you. I don't even know you, really."

"I don't think it's confusing," he said. "You can be attracted to someone, even just for a split second, and not fancy them."

"Well, you can. You're a bloke. That's acceptable for you. Girls aren't allowed to do that."

"Ignore society," he said. "It doesn't matter what they tell you to do. You are allowed to feel whatever you like."

"Are you a feminist, Jack?" she raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged. "I believe in equality."

"Then yes."

"Okay, yes."

He flashed a brilliant smile at her and she returned the gesture. "Goodnight, Mar."

"Night, Jack," she said. "We'll talk costumes tomorrow."

"Alright," he smiled. "Talk to you later."

The pair parted ways, each turning towards their own respective staircases from the Gryffindor common room.

 **.**

 **Dean's POV**

Dean closed his history book and leaned his forehead into his hands. He sat alone in the common room, curled up into a bean bag chair in the corner, obscured from view by a large potted plant. He was not in hiding, per say, but he was not exactly hoping to be discovered anytime soon. As he sighed into his hands, he heard a the common room door opening. He glanced down at his watch. It was an hour past curfew, so whoever was entering was breaking the rules. He peeked around the plant and saw Margaux stop in front of the boys staircase. He craned his neck even more to reveal Jack Sloper standing in front of her. He could not hear a word they were saying. Something about their night, he guessed. At once, Margaux stood on her tip toes and planted a kiss on Jack's lips.

Dean's throat seemed to close up as she fell back on her flat feet. His heart beat harder than it ever had in his entire life, save for the time she was on top of him.

 _Margaux kissed Jack._

That meant she broke up with Michael. Or maybe it didn't. Maybe she was cheating on him again, like she did when she kissed Dean. He blinked once and he immediately felt like crying. That should have been him kissing her, not Jack. But Margaux was still mad at him for not defending her from Ginny. Ginny had apologized to Dean, but not to Margaux. The girls were still not getting along. Dean knew he had to make things right with Margaux.

"I need to stop kissing people," he heard Margaux say to Jack. "All it does is confuse them. I don't fancy you. I don't even know you, really."

So, she knew her kiss confused him. It did more than confuse him, it broke his heart. But that was neither here nor there at the moment. At least Margaux did not fancy Jack. That was a relief.

Jack said some words that she seemed to be pondering, but he could not hear anything else they discussed. The two parted ways in a non-flirtatious manner, so that was fantastic.

After he heard the doors to both their rooms close, Dean grabbed his book and bolted up the stairs. The room was empty, save for Neville who was putting thick rain boots on his feet, god knows why.

"Neville," he hissed. ""Margaux just kissed Jack Sloper."

"What?" Neville asked in confusion.

Now Dean was frantic. "I saw them. I just saw her kiss Jack."

"Oh," he said sadly. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"Did she break up with Michael?"

"She… she was talking about it."

Dean did not try to hide his hurt. "And you didn't tell me?"

Neville gulped. "I'm sorry. After everything that happened… Dean, you need to break up with Ginny. I'm just going to come out and say it. Stop talking to her, stop doing her every will, stop snogging her. She's only hurting you. And she's hurting your chances with Margaux."

Dean sighed. "I know. I'm leading her on. But I don't think she fancies me either. It's just a matter of convenience at this point."

Neville bit his lip. "Break up with her. Date around. Dean, you either need to get over Margaux or go after her. You can't walk the line. It only hurts you."

The boy nodded and groaned. "Fuck it. You're right. But I can't break up with her before this Halloween party. She'll kill me. Absolutely murder me. We've already got couple costumes. I'll do it right after."

"That's fine," Neville said quietly. "But do it quickly. She's hurting you, Dean, and you know it."

Dean was quiet a moment, before he said, "Are you going to the Slug Club party tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"With Lenore?"

"No, actually, Zabini invited me as his plus one."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Okay, shove it, you wanker, I'm just making sure."

Neville smiled. "No, the second something goes wrong between me and Lenore, you'll know about it. Mostly because I'll be an anxious wreck."

"Oh, I know," said Dean. "I'm not looking forward to it. How's she doing, with the Katie event?"

Neville's face fell. "I don't know. I honestly don't know. She doesn't like to talk about it. I've tried to get her to talk to me multiple times, but I think she's ignoring her feelings. All her pent up emotions are going to hit her one day and she's just going to fall apart. So, I'm ignoring it with her until that day."

Dean shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Well, that's not great."

"Nope. But that's how she deals with things. You know the five stages of grief? Denial is her longest stage, by far. It can last weeks. The other four stages happen in about fifteen minutes, then it's over."

"That's so weird," Dean shook his head. "But I'm kind of the same way. I think I'm handling this Margaux thing in a similar way."

"I think so, too," Neville said. "One day this is all just going to hit you, but right now I think you're doing everything possible to ignore your feelings."

"Alright," Dean smiled as he opened the door to their dormitory. "No more psychoanalyzing. Goodnight."

"Oh, I'm actually going out," he nodded towards the door.

Dean checked his watch. "It's almost eight. You're going to miss curfew?"

"No, I'll be back. Terry and I are going to the lake to collect sample for Herbology."

Dean turned up his nose. "What, Seamus isn't coming?"

Neville seemed uncomfortable at his slight dig at Seamus's abandonment of his best mates. "Oh, umm, probably not."

"Mmm," Dean nodded. "I wonder if he remembers what life was like before he started sucking Terry's tit."

"Okay, goodnight, bye!" Neville called, now clearly non-confrontational.

Dean crossed his arms, sat on his bed, then decided he better start preparing his Halloween costume for that stupid Slug Club party tomorrow.

 **.**

 **Lenore's POV**

Lenore and Odette entered their dormitory after a lovely Friday dinner together. On a bed, sat Blair and Mallory, holding hands and looking serious.

"Hi, Mal," said Odette cheerily. "What's up?"

Mallory stood up at once. "Nothing!"

The two girls eyed the tall, brown-haired Slytherin boy. His big eyes stared back at them, until he shifted his gaze on Blair.

"You're so weird," she exhaled. She turned to her roommates. "Where's Pansy and Circe?"

"Right behind us," Lenore said. "They stopped in the other girls' room to pick up a book or something."

As if on cue, Pansy shoved Circe in the room and slammed the door. "I cannot believe Daphne stole my eyeliner! It was sitting right there on her fucking nightstand! What a bitch! Mallory, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Circe gave a friendly smile and tossed the textbook on her bed.

"Hey," Lenore looked around the room. "How'd you get Mallory up here anyway?"

"It's not hard," said Blair. "Circe brings guys up here all the time."

Lenore took a seat on her trunk. "Yeah, but you all never tell me how you do it."

"Nobody tell her," Pansy said quickly. "Longbottom isn't allowed in the dungeons, much less this room. Or my sight."

Lenore rolled her eyes. "I know you bring Draco up here, too!"

"I bring whoever I like wherever I like," she huffed.

"Mostly bringing Draco where the sun don't shine," commented Circe.

Pansy glared at the girl with blue-tipped hair. "The sun shines everywhere on you, what with your vagina flapping open every five seconds."

"Shut up, Pansy," said Lenore.

"Yeah, shut up," agreed Odette.

"All of you, shut up," Blair interrupted at Circe wrapped the crook of her elbow in Lenore and Odette's arms. "Mallory is here for a reason."

Circe asked. "What reason?"

"We have an announcement," said the boy.

Pansy groaned and began to pick up her backpack. "I'm going downstairs. Call me when this show is over."

"Pansy!" Blair shouted. "Sit down and shut up. You love gossip."

Pansy bit her cheek and crossed her arms.

At once, Circe said, "You're not pregnant, are you?"

Lenore and Pansy eyes met for a couple seconds, each making no attempt to hide their worry.

"No!" Blair said. "No. Yuck. Nothing that serious."

Pansy sighed. "It sure seems serious, given how dramatic you're being right now."

Blair flipped Pansy a rude hand gesture, then returned her hand to her hip.

"I want to hear," Circe said kindly while Odette and Lenore nodded.

"Okay…"

Blair's face twisted into a smile as she grabbed Mallory's waist. She shoved her hand out for the room to see and on her left finger, next to her pinky, sat a silver ring with a small pink pearl on each side of a shiny teardrop diamond.

Every roommate's mouth dropped open. Circe was the first to speak. Not really speak, more like shriek with glee. Odette joined in on her screams and hurried over to Blair. Only Pansy and Lenore sat silently, eyes wide open.

"BLAIR?" Lenore gasped. "ARE YOU ENGAGED?"

"I AM!" the girl squealed.

"To Mallory?" Pansy raised her eyebrows.

"No, to Dumbledore," she rolled her eyes.

"BLAIR! CONGRATULATIONS!" shouted Odette.

"THIS IS SO WONDERFUL!" yelled Circe. "You two are beautiful together!"

The squealing continued as the three girls fawned over Blair's ring and Mallory chipped in his occasional comment. Lenore and Pansy remained stationary and silent.

"How did he ask you?" demanded Circe.

"Yes!" Odette agreed. "Tell us!"

"It was today in the Astronomy Tower during sunset tonight," gushed Blair. "That's why we weren't at dinner. He packed us a picnic. He got down on one knee. told me all this mushy stuff, and I said yes!"

The girls squealed as Lenore finally spoke. "Was it a surprise, or had you discussed marriage together?"

"Complete surprise!" said Blair. "I loved it. I had no idea. We'd thought about marriage, but not seriously. He just felt the time was right and knew I felt the same, without having to talk to me."

Sounds like a load of rubbish, Lenore thought. Engagements should never be a surprise. Both parties need to be fully aware of everything going on in the partnership, but that was neither here nor there. The important thing was, Blair and Mallory were engaged. At seventeen and eighteen. Bloody hell, that was the scariest thing Lenore had ever heard. True, the couple had been dating three years, but seventeen? No way would Lenore even consider engagement at seventeen, much less her early twenties. Blair and Mallory were getting married. As if reading her mind, Odette spoke up, "When's the wedding?"

"We're thinking July."

"Blair," both Lenore and Pansy said at the same time.

The girls locked eyes, so Lenore yielded to Pansy.

"You won't even be eighteen!" Pansy said. "You'll have another year of school! And Frankenstein here won't even have a job!"

"Frankenstein?" Mallory exclaimed.

Lenore eyed him. Now that Pansy said it, he did look a bit reminiscent of the movie version of Frankenstein's monster, but she shook that cruel thought from her brain. Mallory was good-looking guy, but he was tall with a square head and a strong upper body with broad shoulders. He was shaped like the monster who Lenore was surprised Pansy even knew. But by her gasp, Circe seemed to understand, so maybe this muggle novel transitioned into the wizarding world.

"Yeah," Pansy continued, "you've got a square head and patchy skin."

"Oh go fuck yourself, Pansy!" Blair shouted. "Get out of here if you're going to be mean!"

Pansy crossed her arms tighter. "This is my room! Mallory's the one who doesn't belong!"

"You didn't hear me complain when you locked me out so you and Draco could shag!"

"Okay," Lenore interrupted, "when the hell are all you people fucking in this room?"

"Oh, that's right," Blair ignored Lenore at turned back to Pansy, "you probably couldn't hear me complain over the sound of Draco sobbing."

The room fell silent. Not a single person said a word, but they all turned their eyes on Pansy. She stared at Blair for a long time, a hurt look on her face that Lenore had never seen before. Without a word, she picked up a pack of cigarettes and exited the room with only the slam of the door behind her.

Blair exhaled and the silence broke.

"Bloody hell," Circe breathed.

"Wait," Lenore said, "have you heard Draco crying while they're having sex?"

Blair nodded, as did Odette and Circe.

"More than once," Circe added.

Lenore bit her lip. "Holy shit, I thought I was the only one."

"Me, too," said Odette.

"Me, too," said Circe.

"Wait—" Mallory said, shaking his head. "Malfoy cries? In bed?"

The girls nodded.

"Don't tell anyone," Blair warned, "or I'll kill you."

"No," the boy said at once. "No. That… that isn't something you should tell."

"I kind of regret it," Blair said.

"Should I go after her?" Circe asked.

As Pansy's favorite roommate, Circe was the logical choice, but Blair shook her head. "No. No, I think Lenore should."

All eyes shifted to Lenore. "Why me?"

"You two obviously feel the same about our engagement."

Blair's words were icy, although not spiteful. They simply lacked her usual warmth. Lenore opened and closed her mouth as her eyes moved between Blair and Mallory. "It's nothing personal. At all. I love you two together. You have a great relationship. But you're so young. You have all the time in the world. I just don't understand."

"You don't have to understand," Blair muttered. "You just have to be happy for us."

Lenore searched their faces, before giving her own disingenuous smile. "I am happy for you. You two are a wonderful couple and I admire the way you treat each other."

"Thank you," Blair smiled warmly. "I knew you'd support us."

Lenore grimaced, the said, "Yep. I'll still go find Pansy, though."

"Tell her I'm sorry!" said Blair. "I really am."

Lenore nodded. She grabbed a coat to wear over her olive green jumper, slipped on a pair of boots and followed Pansy downstairs. She knew exactly where the girl would go: down to the peninsula on the lake. That was her spot to sit and think. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes, so she would be out there for a while.

Lenore paced over the dark fields and shook her head with worry. She really did like Mallory. He was a nice guy and he treated Blair only with love and respect. It was not their relationship she objected to, so much as their youth. People change with age. Nobody is the same at seventeen as they are at twenty-seven, which would not bode well for young marriages.

Sure enough, Lenore could smell Pansy's cigarette smoke from the peninsula. She preferred a very specific brand that smell to Lenore like burning tires. Awful stuff, really. Lenore glanced around. This was the same spot, not a month ago, where she sat with Katie during the fireworks show. She pushed that thought from her mind and whispered, "Pansy?"

Her pinchy face turned towards Lenore. "What do you want?"

She decided to lie. "I came to talk shit about Blair."

"Well, sit right down!" Pansy patted the ground.

Lenore took a seat on the grass next to Pansy, trying her best not to inhale too much smoke at once. Pansy tilted her pack of cigarettes toward her and Lenore shook her head. "No thanks."

Pansy sneered. "You can stop with the holier-than-thou act, Goody Proctor."

"Okay," Lenore said, "how are you making all these muggle book references today?"

"What are you talking about?"

"These books are all written by muggles."

"No they aren't."

Okay, Lenore was not about to argue with Pansy about Arthur Miller's magical abilities or lack thereof. "Whatever," she said. "So, back to Blair."

"She's an idiot."

"Well… maybe. An idiot in love."

"Disgusting."

"Maybe instead of insulting her, we need to convince her to put off the wedding until she's out of Hogwarts."

"How do we know she's coming back to Hogwarts, mm? Maybe she'll quit school and become a stay-at-home wife, churning out square babies for her monster man."

Lenore tilted her head. "I don't know. She could. But she's smart. She seems like she wants to finish school."

"Or the baby machine option."

"Do you not want kids?" Lenore asked.

She flicked her cigarette ashes onto the dewey ground. "I'll have 'em, but I don't want 'em. The help can take care of them."

"Is that how you were raised?"

"Yep. Worked out just fine."

Lenore watched Pansy exhaled a long stream of smoke. "You don't… wish your parents had—"

"Okay, shut up," she said. "We're not talking about this."

Lenore remained silent, not angry, just hoping Pansy would fill the silence. She knew she would eventually.

Pansy took a long puff of her cigarette and cursed when her exhalation of smoke did not form a ring as she had intended. "So," she flipped the cigarette into her other hand, "what are we going to do about Blair?"

Lenore's eyes rarely blinked, captivated by Pansy's smoke disappearing into the dark sky, consumed by the glowing stars. "We need to make sure she knows what she's doing."

"That's the problem. I don't think she does know."

Lenore sighed and laid on her back. She stared up at the stars, which seemed so simple compared to the problem of humans. Stars burned for thousands of years, even after their deaths. They did not have to work to have a successful life or to be remembered after death. In reality, stars should be the envy of every Slytherin. Lenore was rather jealous of the glowing orbs at the moment. They did not have to deal with friends getting engaged at seventeen, or friends in toxic relationships, or their own relationships scaring them.

Lenore sighed and sat up. "What are we going to do about all of us?"

Pansy flicked her cigarette ashes into the lake. "What about us?"

"It feels like everybody I know is in some sort of weird, unhealthy relationship."

Pansy examined her. "Things not going well with Longbottom?"

"No!" Lenore said at once. "No, we're perfectly fine. And that's kind of scary."

"Why?"

Lenore turned to look at Pansy. She decided they were good enough friends to tell her vaguely about her problems. "Because I don't want to fall in love."

She simply nodded. "With Longbottom or with anyone in general?"

"Anyone. I mean, obviously I do want to eventually love Neville, but… Not right now. I feel like he's so much more into me than I am into him. And it's not that I don't fancy him a great deal. I do. But, I'm just scared he'll say 'I love you' in like a month, when I'll probably need three or four more months to know."

"He's freer with his emotions."

"Than me, yeah."

"Isn't everyone freer with their emotions than you?"

Lenore smiled. "You could say the same about you."

"Honey, I know. It's a blessing and a curse."

Pansy exhaled another puff of smoke. This time, she correctly formed a circle and grinned as Lenore tried not to inhale. "I think you need to talk to Longbottom about this. And even if he says those words, just don't say it back."

"It'll hurt him."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Boo hoo. He'll get over it."

She nodded. "Yeah… I don't know. It'll be fine. Our relationship is going great. I really do fancy him more every day. But love is just so scary."

"Love is an illusion—"

"Oh god."

Pansy glared at her. "I'm serious. Do you think it's love when couples have a huge wedding? Do you think it's love when they get engaged at seventeen just to prove a point? What about when they snog in public? None of that is love. Love is a commodity, like money or goods. We use love to showcase how great our lives are, much like how people show off their fancy new robes or grand mansions or fine jewels. Lenore, I'm from a rich Pureblood family. You're half pure, but honestly, the Henrys are the trash of the wizarding society. You're like the Weasleys. Too many children and not enough money."

Lenore shrugged.

Pansy continued. "And see, if someone had insulted my family like that, I would have been angry. All you can do is agree."

"I mean, it's true," said Lenore. "My grandpa is one of eleven children. They all worked as floo technicians or Knight bus drivers or mechanics. Even on my muggle side, they're all like that. But my parents made something for themselves, so I'm fine with that. I'm one generation removed from all that."

Pansy nodded. "But anyway, love isn't real. Love is like galleons. We want it so we can show it off."

Lenore took in her words for a moment. "The problem is, there are couples who don't want all that. I don't want a big engagement ring. I hate when couples snog in public. And I especially don't want a big wedding. But I do want love, eventually."

"There are exceptions to the rule, but you still want it because you've been told all your life than you need it."

"Do you not want to be in love? Or get married?"

"Love has nothing to do with being married."

Lenore stared at Pansy for a while. "Yes… it definitely does."

Pansy scoffed. "You halfbloods are all romantics. Marriage is for unifying families, creating alliances, or accumulating wealth. All you need is someone who values those same things, and who is occasionally good at fucking."

"Pansy, you definitely need to love the person you're going to marry."

She shook her head. "Lenore, no. Purebloods don't marry for love. They marry for alliances."

"Neville's parents married for love."

Pansy took a long draw on her cigarette. "The Longbottoms are just a step above the Henrys in the pureblood hierarchy."

"They are rich, though. Neville has great aunts and uncles with two or three homes. They wear jewelry and fine robes."

"All those things are passed down from generation to generation and mostly acquired from marriages to better pureblood families. The Longbottoms have nothing original of their own."

Lenore sat in silence. "I can't really argue with you because I don't entirely understand the pureblood life."

"You grew up around the muggle family, didn't you?"

Lenore nodded.

Another flick of her ashes into the water. "Then you'll never understand."

The two Slytherin girls were quiet for a while, taking in the sound of the water lapping against the shore. Lenore finally decided to ask, "Is that why you want Draco?"

Pansy tensed up. She clenched her jaw and her fingers tightened around her cigarette.

"Or do you actually fancy him?"

"Don't talk to me about Draco," Pansy replied cooly.

"Pans, obviously there's something wrong between you two. I've never seen you this unhappy, and honestly if I can tell how you're feeling, it must be pretty dramatic."

The corners of Pansy's mouth turned into a smile, but she quickly collected herself and moved back to a frown. "There's nothing wrong with us."

"Are you still shagging Draco?"

"Yes," she flicked her cigarette. "Are you still not shagging Longbottom?"

"Yes."

A beat of silence passed over the girls, before they both cracked a smile and giggled just a tiny bit.

"How is Draco?" Lenore asked. "He seems off lately."

"I can't tell you," Pansy shook her head. "But it's whatever. He's fine, he's just being a baby. You know, you and the other roommates are the only ones who know I'm fucking him."

"You haven't told Daphne or the others?"

She shook her head. "And Draco hasn't told anyone."

"Isn't that weird?" Lenore asked. "Hanging around Draco and Blaise and the two idiots and knowing you've seen him naked?"

Pansy covered her face with his hands and stifled a laugh. "I don't know why I'm about to tell you this, but… we haven't even seen each other naked. Draco needs the room to be completely pitch black."

Lenore laughed. "What? Why?"

"He's odd, I'm telling you. But he has everything I need. Wealth, power, and the occasional decent fuck."

Lenore smiled before Pansy continued. "You better find someone other than Longbottom to marry, or you'll end up with a house none of the other pureblood families wanted, working a blue collar job to support yourself, and a vibrator."

Lenore stuck out her tongue. "But at least I'll be in love, unlike you."

Pansy turned her eyes to the ground. For a moment, Lenore could almost see the sadness in her eyes, but she immediately shook it out. "Well, I don't need that anyway."

"Honestly, you should have gone for Theodore Nott," Lenore said. "He's at least a semi-nice guy."

"Odette seems to be going after him, doesn't she?"

Lenore shook her head. "She's a halfblood. He wouldn't do anything except snog her and she knows that. Can I tell you something?"

Pansy nodded.

"I'm kind of scared that if I stay with a pureblood for a really long time, I would ruin his bloodline. That sounds so stupid, and I don't believe in it for a second, but… if I had kids with any pureblood, they wouldn't be pure. Even if they all married purebloods after that, they could only ever be called halfbloods for the rest of their lives. And what if the war gets worse and You-Know-Who wins? I'd be dooming all his descendants to being halfbloods."

Pansy shrugged. "Well, that would be a problem. But it just depends which pureblood knocks you up."

Lenore gasped. "Neville is the last person in his family to carry the Longbottom name. None of the men in that family have kids and the women all have different last names. Do you realize that if Neville and I had kids, the Longbottoms wouldn't be pureblood anymore? Centuries of purebloods would be wiped out because of me, or because of any halfblood or muggleborn or muggle he married."

Pansy pondered her reply. "I don't think the Longbottoms would care. If they did, they wouldn't have been dumb with the family name. And they also wouldn't have let so many of them get killed. They aren't the type to care about preserving family ties. A lot of lower class families don't care. Did your grandparents care when your dad married a muggle?"

"No," Lenore rolled her eyes at Pansy's dig, "not that I know of. Both their sons married muggles. Actually, they were madder that my uncle married a black woman than the fact that she's a muggle."

"See, so if the Henrys don't care, then the Longbottoms won't. They should just be happy Neville actually found himself a human female."

Lenore rolled her eyes and laid back against a tree. "He really isn't a weirdo. I know you bullied him when we were kids, but I'm serious, he's perfectly normal."

"He's a nerd."

"Well… yes. In a good way."

"He's timid and awkward and can't speak properly without stammering."

"Okay," Lenore said, "quit. I swear to you, if you had just taken the time to talk to him, instead of bullying him, he would have been nice to you. He's still way too nice to you. If you treat him with kindness, he opens up and he's quite fun and interesting."

"And clumsy and scared and weirdly-shaped."

"Pansy, I'm going to leave if you don't stop. I fancy him. A lot. He's none of those things. And he's not weird-looking. You make fun of the way he looks, but I think he's really attractive."

She raised her brow.

"And just why would you want to sleep with Draco?" Lenore demanded. "He's pale and skinny and everything on his body is the same color: white. He's also short. Not to mention cranky, mean—"

"Alright!" Pansy stopped her. "Fine. We all have different tastes."

Before Lenore could answer, she heard voices behind them.

"And then Seamus put both of them in his mouth and smoked two at the same time!"

Lenore turned around to hear the unmistakable voice of Terry Boot wadding through the water. He wore large rain boots and stood in water up to his knees. Behind him, Neville reached down into the water with gloved hands and returned with a handful of seaweed.

"Neville!" Lenore called.

"Great," Pansy muttered.

The boy heard Lenore and peeked around for her, even calling her name. She stood up to greet him by the shore, a little way behind Pansy, who did not move.

"What are you two doing out here?" Lenore smiled.

"We have to collect samples for Herbology," he nodded towards Terry. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm… talking with Pansy, actually."

Neville's voice quieted, "Pansy's out here?"

"Yes, Longbottom," she said gruffly. Neville turned his eyes towards the sound and saw Pansy shifting her body towards him. "I'm out here."

"H-hi," he nearly whispered.

He gave Lenore a questioning, almost hurt, look, but she grabbed onto the front of his shirt, near his lower ribs, and said, "She's fine. She's got all the mean out of her system for tonight."

"I never run out of mean," she said as she tossed her cigarette butt into the lake. Terry frowned and fished it out while Neville removed his rubber gloves and tossed them on the shore.

As Terry squabbled with Pansy over her littering habits, Lenore kissed Neville on the cheek, then whispered in his ear, "Don't be nervous. I'm here."

He kissed her cheek, then breathed, "I-I can defend myself."

"I know," she smiled.

"But I really do appreciate it."

"Aren't you going to tell Longbottom why we're out here?" Pansy demanded.

Lenore leaned away from Neville and shouted, "Yes! Oh my god, Neville, Blair is engaged!"

"To Mallory?"

"Yes!" she screeched.

"That's great. Tell her congratulations."

Lenore's mouth dropped open as Pansy cackled with laughter. "No! Neville! You are misreading my tone. This is bad. Very bad."

"Bad?"

"She's seventeen! He's not even graduated yet! She's still got another year of school."

"Oh," he said. "Oh, well, I guess that's not… great."

"No! It's not. It's awful."

"I… I don't know about awful. If they love each other—"

Pansy cackled again, so Neville closed his mouth in fear.

"Ignore her," Lenore said. "She doesn't believe in love. We were just talking about it."

Pansy stood up and walked over to Lenore and Neville. She folded her arms and said, "Lenore here claims she doesn't want you to say 'I love you' to her."

"PANSY!"

Neville turned his gaze to Lenore and she was forced to quickly discover the correct words. "I-I told her that I'm not ready to be in love and I said I was scared you would say it first one day in the future and I wouldn't be able to say it back and it would hurt you and—"

She punched Pansy in the arm and the girl laughed.

"Thanks a lot! Neville, just ignore that. Please, ignore all of it."

"O-okay," he said quietly.

"I'm not… I'm not saying I think you love me. And I'm not saying I won't be able to love you one day, if that's what we want. I'm just saying… it's scary. And I shouldn't have told her anything, but we were talking and it just came out… Did you know Draco is scared to have sex with the lights on?"

"LENORE!"

This time, Pansy smacked Lenore's arm and the two girls started going at it, punching each other's bodies as Terry shouted encouraging fight words. Pansy yanked section of Lenore's hair as Lenore smacked the girl's arms away from her. Finally, Neville stepped in between them.

"Stop!" he said. "Stop, stop, stop! It's fine. Everybody is fine."

Lenore tangled a hand through her hair in an attempt to fix where Pansy had pulled and Pansy rubbed her shoulder where Lenore had punched.

"Lenore," Neville turned to her. "I… I know this already. I know it's going to take a while for you to allow yourself to feel more. That's okay. It's perfectly okay. I'll be here for you no matter what you're feeling. I don't… I don't think I love you yet, so don't worry about it."

He shifted to Pansy. "A-and trust me, I could have done without any information on Draco's sex life."

Pansy ground her teeth. "I'm going back to the castle."

"Wait!" Lenore said. "We still haven't figured out what we're going to do with Blair."

"I don't know," Pansy said. "Fucking figure it out yourself."

"Fine! Sorry!"

Pansy waved her hand as she headed back to the castle. Once he was sure she was out of earshot, Neville announced, "Holy shit. You got in a fist fight with Pansy Parkinson."

Lenore folded her arms. "That's not the first time. Remember when she scratched me?"

"Yeah, but that was an accident. And you fought back this time."

"Bloody hell, Lenore," Terry said as he wadded closer. "That was the fucking best thing I've ever seen. Took her down a notch."

Lenore groaned. "She was being perfectly fine before. Well, not perfectly fine, she was being rude, but I didn't mind. She's just mad because I offended Draco. She's so weird about him."

"She obviously loves him," Neville said quietly.

"She told me… I can't even sum up what she told me. Something about how love is a commodity and we only want it so we can show it off, so you might as well marry for money instead of love because money will take you farther. She insulted your family, by the way. And mine. She said we were both trashy and your family only has money because you marry other purebloods and keep their stuff."

Neville shrugged. "Who cares? At least we've got something and we're not in your face about it. And we don't hesitate to share if someone asked for help. Gran gave one of her canasta teammates money for her husband's operation. I can't see Pansy's grandma doing that."

"No," Lenore shook her head.

"Here," Neville said as he caught sight of her moving. He placed a hand on top of her head and unclipped her hair. He ran his fingers over her hair to smooth it and smiled. "It looked like a bird's nest up there."

Lenore groaned. "She really went for the hair pulling."

Neville attempted to slick her hair out of her face and clip it once more, but when he leaned away to examine his work, Lenore witnessed his disillusionment.

She laughed, "Did you mess it up?"

"I-it's harder than it looks."

She adjusted her bangs under the clip and he smiled at her. "Much better than what I did."

Lenore thanked him, then frowned. "Neville, whenever you're done, can I talk to you?"

"I can leave," Terry offered. "I've got all my samples."

"Oh, no!" she said. "No, I don't want to interrupt. It doesn't have to be tonight. I don't want to break you two up."

"Nah!" Terry said. "No worries. You two talk. Good seeing you, mate."

He gave Neville a pat on the shoulder and trudged back to the castle, his boots squeaking with each step.

"I'm so sorry," Lenore said. "I didn't want to take you away from him."

"Don't worry," Neville said sweetly. "Tell me what's wrong. How are you doing?"

He took her hand and climbed out of the lake. She sat down beside him as he peeled off his waterproof boots. Lenore stared at him for a moment, before she attacked his lips. Her hands gripped his jaw and he immediately reciprocated her motions, pulling her in closer to him. Lenore desperately wanted to show him how much he meant to her, especially after Pansy's revelation.

She reveled in their shared heat, his breath warming her cold cheeks. She slipped her hands behind his neck and placed her fingers inside his shirt collar. Neville reached up under her coat and clutched her jumper. Yet again, the urge to be even closer to him overwhelmed her body. She swung a knee over his lap and kissed him with more passion. His strong, reassuring hands trailed up and down her back as he seemed to pour every ounce of admiration into each movement of his lips. Lenore could not help herself anymore, she whimpered lightly against his mouth. He returned the noise and she pressed her fingers into his skin as her stomach twisted with desire.

He moved to her jaw and said, "Tell me what you wanted to say."

He kissed her neck as she spoke, "Neville, I'm really sorry about what Pansy said. I shouldn't have told her, I should have told you. And I'm not saying I—"

She gasped when he kissed a certain spot near the crook of her neck. "Oh Neville, that feels so good."

She clutched the back of his head tighter and he remained in that area. "I fancy you a great deal, but you know love is scary. We've only been dating two months, but I've talked to a lot of people who say 'I love you' after two months. I'm not kidding. I asked my sister, Blair, Odette, even Katie and Alicia said two months is a normal amount of time, but Neville, I'm not ready. I think 'I love you' means something more than you can feel in two months. Oh fuck, that feels so good."

She moaned into his hair and he groaned along with her. "And I have some other things to say, too. I don't want Blair to be engaged. I'm going to figure out a way to make them see some sense. They are way too young and there's no reason to get married so soon. I'd be okay with her getting engaged and waiting, but they are planning a wedding for July. July. That's eight months away. Blair won't even be eighteen until September. That's completely mental. I'm going to try to talk some sense into them. I was going to do it with Pansy, but she's got issues, so I'm going to ask Margaux."

She gripped a patch of his hair in her fists. "Neville, you're bloody amazing. Where the hell did you learn to do this?"

She felt him smile against her skin and her brain went faint again. She was already drifting in and out of a fog of complete ecstasy with each movement of his lips across her skin. Her breathing quickened and she moaned once more as lust swallowed her every thought. She knew she should control herself and be quieter, but that did not matter to her right now. Neville was giving her more pleasure than she had ever experienced in her entire life.

"Neville," she whimpered, "don't stop. God, you're so good."

She felt him practically dissolve into her arms. She was quiet a moment, her cheek leaned against the back of his head, and her fingers massaging his neck. Her chest rose and fell, occasionally touching his chin. His hands tightened their grip on her back and she smiled. After a moment of pure bliss, she could not stop herself from talking.

"I fancy you so much," she whispered in his ear. "Sometimes it scares me how much I fancy you. And it scares me to tell you, because what if something happens to you? The world is only getting worse, and I know the Ministry thing won't even be close to the last brave thing you do, and I'm just… scared. For our future. For everyone's future. Especially after what happened to Katie. It could have been any one of us. And what if she hadn't been wearing gloves? Neville, she would have been the second friend I lost. Two friends in the span of a few months. I miss Katie. I miss Raquel. And I miss Cho. When Cedric died, Odette and I basically lost her. We used to all be good friends. I watched her crumble, Nev, and I… I don't want to watch anyone else hurting that much. And I don't want to hurt that much myself ever again."

Tears flowed down her face and Neville let up his kissing. He moved to her face and wiped her tears as she still sobbed. She buried her face in his neck. "I hate this," she said. "I hate crying. Neville, I swear to you, you've seen me cry more times that I ever did in my entire life before this year. I never cry. But every time I do, literally every time, you seem to be there. You must think I'm completely mental for crying while you were snogging me. I'm so sorry."

"No," he said softly. "You need to cry. Is this the first time you've cried about Katie?"

She nodded.

"Then cry. I thought it was mental how you didn't cry that first night. You're so strong, Len."

She wiped her tears and forced herself to stop crying within seconds. "Okay, I'm fine. I'm fine. It's okay."

Neville started to wipe her cheeks, but she got to her face before he did. "I'm done," she said. "It's fine. Kiss me some more."

"Len, I really think—"

But she moved to his lips before he could tell her to cry again. After a few seconds, he pulled away to say, "You can't expect me to kiss you when I can feel your wet cheeks, can you?"

She leaned away. "I guess not. Sorry."

As she sat on the ground, Neville wrapped and arm around her. "Are you really done crying?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I can't force myself to do it again."

He kissed the top of her hair and curled closer to her. She settled into his body and closed her eyes. Time passed, but she could not be sure how much. Time was irrelevant when she was in Neville's arms.

"Lenore?"

But the voice was not Neville's. Lenore opened her eyes and saw Pansy heading towards her. Boy was she glad she was not on top of Neville anymore. Pansy would have found great glee in taunting her.

"Hi, Pansy," she responded shortly.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright?" The girl crossed her arms as she stood directly in front of Lenore and Neville. "Can I talk to you privately? So I don't have to see this wanker?"

"No," Lenore said. "You can talk to me in front of Neville or don't talk to me at all."

Pansy rolled her eyes and hesitated to sit down, but she finally sat in front of Lenore. Lenore could feel Neville tighten his grip on her, but she was not sure if it was a protective or a fearful move. She smiled at him briefly before turning to Pansy. "What did you need?"

"I have an idea. And it's going to sound so stupid, but it also sounds like something you would do."

"What?"

"So… in the pureblood world, we have this game, called the Honeymooners. It's a radio programme and they get three couples together to answer quiz questions. One couple is recently married, the other has been together a few years, and the other has been married like forty or fifty years. Do you know what I'm talking about, Longbottom?"

He nodded quickly.

"Like the Newlywed Game?" Lenore said.

"Is that a muggle thing?"

"Yeah. It's the same thing, I bet. Do they write down their answers, then the other partner has to guess what they said?"

"Pretty much, yeah. So… I was thinking we could convince Blair and Mallory to play this with two other couples. I want to show her how ridiculous it is that she's getting married so young and I think I could prove that by showing her she doesn't know all that much about Mallory. They've been dating for three years, sure, but that doesn't mean anything. I would almost bet you losers know more about each other than Blair and Mallory. The entire point of the game is to try and show them that they don't know each other as well as they should before they get married. They've never slept overnight in the same bed, or even lived on their own, much less together. They've never travelled together. They don't talk about finances or anything serious. They aren't mature enough to be married and I want to show them that they are on the same level as couples who have only recently gotten together. Does that sound stupid?"

"No!" Lenore said. "No! I like it. I think it's a great idea. Who would the other couples be?"

"There's no way I could convince any Slytherin couples to do it… so I was thinking you and Longbottom, for one. Because even though you've only dated a couple months, you've known each other longer than Blair and Mallory."

Lenore glanced at Neville. "Would you want to?"

"I…" he shifted his eyes between Pansy and Lenore. "I don't know if I should get in the way of Blair and—"

"Oh shut up, Longbottom," Pansy rolled her eyes. "They're getting married too young and you know it. The world isn't that bad. There is no reason for them to get married. I know your parents did it, but their brains turned to mush before they hit twenty-three—"

"PANSY!" Lenore shrieked.

She ignored the girl and talked over her shrill exclamation with more force. "If they had been in their right minds, it might not have ended up such a fairy tale!"

"Don't talk about his parents!" Lenore fought back. She had watched Neville's face fall as Pansy spoke so she clutched his hand. Before she could continue, Neville spoke up.

"You think it's a fairy tale that they need someone to feed them?" he said quietly. "Or help them use a bed pan? Or even sometimes just to remember to breathe? You think it's a fairytale to grow up without parents and nobody tells you why they're like that until you're ten? To see your mum and dad in photographs around the house looking happy and healthy and then to visit them, only to find essentially skeletons? What about always wishing for a brother or a sister or any human contact with someone who isn't seventy years old? It's not a fairy tale, Pansy. Their love isn't a fairy tale. It's a tragedy. A-and even if they were in their right minds but still divorced, is that not ideal compared to being bed-ridden and most likely dead by the age of fifty?"

Pansy was silent. Lenore could feel tears welling up in her eyes again, so she moved her face towards the ground, but her sniff gave her away.

"Are you crying?" he whispered in her ear.

She nodded sheepishly.

He wrapped her in his arms and glared at Pansy. "I don't understand why you're always such a mean person. I've done nothing to you. Nothing. I never even talked to you before you started bullying me. You are cruel Pansy, and for no reason. You bully halfbloods and muggleborns because you're purist. You bully people of color because you're racist. And you bully other girls because you're jealous. But Pansy, I don't do anything to 'offend' you. All I am is an easy target."

Lenore heard a single sniff and she looked up at Pansy. She girl sat in front of her, lightly sobbing while tears rolled down her cheeks. Lenore's mouth fell open.

"Look," Pansy whimpered, "I know I'm mean. I know I'm cruel and jealous and evil, but Longbottom, I can't help it. I don't know any better. This is how I was raised! You don't understand what it's like to be from a real pureblood family. You and the Henrys are goofy. You can do whatever you like and your family still loves you. I don't have that luxury, okay? Nobody loves me. And if I didn't act like the rest of them, they would hate me. Don't you understand? Lenore broke her family streak of all Ravenclaws and nobody cared. It's all a joke! If I hadn't been placed in Slytherin, my mother would have beat me the second I arrived home for Christmas. My parents are abusive, don't you fucking understand that? So are Draco's. And Blaise's. And Theo's. And countless other pureblood Slytherins. We aren't like this because we want to be evil, but because we _have_ to. It's survival of the fittest and in our world, only the heartless survive."

Pansy broke down into tears, which surprised Lenore more than anything Pansy had even done. Slowly, she removed herself from Neville and placed Pansy under the crook of her arm. The girl weeped into Lenore's thick maroon jumper. Lenore flickered her eyes between the clearly shocked Neville and the distraught Pansy.

After a moment, she gathered herself together and faced Neville. "So, I know I'm mean. I don't always want to be, but I have to. I'm still going to be cruel to you. I'm still going to bully you. But… I rarely truly mean anything I say about you."

Neville swallowed once and placed a hand on top of Pansy's. "I-i-it's okay."

"Neville, you don't have to forgive her," Lenore said. "She's tormented you for five years and she can't fix that in thirty seconds of crying."

"I'm not trying to fix it, Lenore," Pansy gritted her teeth. "All I'm trying to do… is make him understand."

"I-it really is okay," Neville nearly whispered. "I sort of understood even before tonight. It's fine, Pansy. One day, hopefully you won't have to do this."

Pansy whipped her hand away from Neville and said a simple, "Thank you."

She wiped her face dry and turned back to Lenore. "So, are you in or not?"

"In what?"

"In my Newlywed Game, or whatever you called it."

Lenore glanced at Neville, who said, "Sure."

"And who's the other couples going to be?"

"I'm thinking that black kid in Gryffindor and the Weasley girl."

"Okay," Lenore said, "well, their names are Dean and Ginny. Why them?"

"Because they very obviously hate each other, but they'll probably still do better on this quiz than Blair and Mallory."

"You can't think of anyone better?"

"Once I tell you this idea, I'm not involved in any way. You'll get your sister to ask the questions. Pretend this is her idea. No, pretend she needs to practice for her future career as a radio presenter. Blair loves quizzes and shite. Don't you see her take every single one in _Witch Weekly_? And Dean and Ginny know each other even less than you and Neville, I assume, so it'll be a better match of new, middle, old relationships."

"Neville and I are more similar to Dean and Ginny, though not Mallory and Blair. We've been dating the same amount of time. We don't sleep together or say 'I love you.' I don't know if Blair would go for that."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "She wouldn't care, she just wants to show everyone her relationship is great. And I guarantee it isn't."

Lenore hesitated.

"Or, you could fuck Longbottom real quick."

Neville's face burned bright red, but Lenore laughed heartily. "Alright, get out of here so I can hop on him."

"Ew," Pansy cringed with a laugh. "Yuck. Forget I said that."

"We were actually snogging, quite hard, right before you came down here," said Lenore.

"Please," Pansy winced.

"Oh yeah," Lenore said, "we were all over each other. I mean, the way he was sucking on my neck—"

"Lenore!" Pansy covered her ears.

Lenore giggled and returned to her place next to Neville, who looked throughly embarrassed, but at the same time, somehow admiring.

"I'll talk to my sister about it and we'll arrange it," said Lenore.

Pansy gave her a grateful nod and stood up. "Thanks. I'm going back to the castle. Curfew is in like twenty minutes."

Lenore nodded. "Okay. We're going to sit here one more moment."

As Pansy turned her back, Lenore suddenly remembered what she wanted to ask. "Wait, Pansy—how did you know his parents are alive?"

The girl faced Lenore and shrugged. "It's common knowledge to older purebloods. I heard my mum say it this summer after you morons visited the Department of Mysteries. I always just thought they were dead."

With that, she started back on her way to the castle.

Lenore faced Neville. "Well, that was weird."

"Super weird," he said. "Have you ever seen her cry?"

Lenore shook her head. "Never."

"I didn't think so."

"Did you… did you know her parents are abusive?"

"Neville…" she shook her head and exhaled. "Almost everyone in Slytherin has an awful family. It's rarer to find out someone has a happy life than if they don't."

"Is your life happy?"

Lenore nodded. "It is. What about yours?"

"Mine, too."

Lenore sat next to him once more and laid her head on his shoulder. "Anyway, I'm going to put my focus on this Newlywed Game thing. I think it'll be fun."

"Do you really think we know each other that well?"

"We'll review before the quiz, but yeah, I think so. Well… I think you know more about me than I know about you."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I voice my opinion freely and you don't. Also because you stalked me for a year and a half bef—"

"I did not!" he burned red.

She giggled heartily. "I know, I'm just kidding."

He rolled his eyes and asked, "What do you want to know about me?"

Lenore thought a moment. "What's your favorite food?"

"I like… potatoes. Almost any way, but probably mashed potatoes."

"What's your favorite band?"

"Umm… Poison Pistons."

"What's the happiest moment of your life?"

He squinted. "That's a hard question. But… I think… when I was seven and my granddad taught me how to skip stones on a lake."

"Really?" she widened her eyes. "Why?"

"We… we all went camping that summer and I remember it being a lot of fun. Granddad was sick for a lot of my life, but he always seemed to have good months. That summer, he had three good months in a row, so we went away for the weekend. And I remember that weekend, specifically that moment, being one of the happiest times of my life. He died seven months later."

Lenore nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry. That does sound like a good trip, though."

"What's the happiest you've ever felt?"

"I don't know. Probably when I was nine. My friend invited about ten of us girls to her house for a sleepover and we did all these different activities. Her mom rented a limousine, which is like… an extra long car? Anyway, they are a sign of luxury in the muggle world. Celebrities and politicians ride in them, so this was a big deal. We went mini-golfing and to the movies and ate at a T.G.I Friday's, which we thought was fancy, all this muggle stuff that seemed really high-class to nine year old me. It sounds stupid now, but… I liked it."

"It doesn't sound stupid," he said. "Can I ask you questions now?"

She nodded.

"Okay… what do you want out of this relationship?"

She hesitated. "What do I want?"

"Yeah."

Lenore was still somewhat confused by his question. "I want someone who understands me. And I want to understand them and appreciate them."

"Where… where do you see us heading?"

She looked him in the eye. "I… I can see us together for a while. I do want to love you one day, I think. You haven't done anything to annoy me yet, so I don't anticipate myself breaking up with you. I am a little worried you'd break up with me, though."

"What?" he gapped. "Why?"

"Because," she hesitated, "you keep saying I'm nice, but last month I called Ginny a bitch and today I got in a fist fight with Pansy. I just don't think I'm… exactly how you perceive me."

"No, Lenore," he said, "I know you do those things. You are justified. Completely justified. You aren't mean, I promise you. I fully understand why you do the things you do. I don't mind one bit. In fact, I love that about you. You know I almost punched Draco last year?"

"You?" she widened her eyes.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Harry had to hold me back, because Draco was making fun of people with mental disabilities and it just got to me, you know? That doesn't make me mean, no more than you calling Ginny… that word, when she clearly abuses Dean and torments Margaux. We… we actually aren't all that different when it comes to things like that."

"Thanks." Lenore smiled and took his hand. "So, where do _you_ see this relationship going?"

"I want to be with you as long as we both care for each other."

She smiled. "Any more questions?"

"Yeah," he said. "When we were snogging… what the hell was I doing to make you moan so much?"

She laughed. "I have no idea. I think I could just tell how much you fancy me. Or maybe I liked you biting. I think it was more of a mental thing than one specific thing you do. You were in my head and it took over my entire body."

"O-oh," he said, astounded.

"I don't kiss you on the neck nearly as much as you kiss me, and I really should. I feel bad that you spend so much time kissing to make only me feel good and I don't do that enough for you."

"No," he shook his head, "I love kissing your neck. Merlin, I love it. I think I like it more than when you kiss my neck."

"Really?" she joked. "Am I that bad?"

"No! No, sorry. I love both, but… I like making you feel good. I like knowing that it's me who is making you moan or tighten your grasp or say my name."

She smiled. "You're so sweet."

Even in the moonlight, she could see his blush. "T-thanks."

Lenore kissed him once, then pulled away, but he captured her lips once more, so she gave in, got up on her knees and scooted closer to him.

"Going to hop on this?" Neville grinned between kisses.

Lenore laughed loudly at his reference to her conversation with Pansy. "Wow, that was quite outgoing for you."

Neville's cheeks flushed. "I know."

Lenore moved over his lap and smiled. "You would faint if I even touched anywhere near there."

"I-I would," he chuckled.

She giggled and placed her palms on his far upper thighs, near this stomach, so that her hands clutched the sides of his legs. He immediately gulped. "W-w-what are you doing?"

She leaned in, placing some weight on her hands, and watched his obviously nervous face before she kissed his lips.

"D-don't move your hands," he muttered. "I-I couldn't handle that."

She smiled. "I know."

Her lips returned to his face and he gripped the back of her head tightly. After a while, she did move her hands, but away from his legs. She clutched the back of his neck and pulled him away from the tree he leaned on.

"How about you kneel over me for a change?" she grinned.

"Alright," he agreed.

As he adjusted his position over her knees, she yanked him closer to her, but however they were wrapped around each other, he found himself unable to move skillfully. He fell on top of her, catching himself with his forearms on either side of her.

"Oh!" he exhaled. "Sorry!"

She giggled from underneath him and pulled his face down on her, so that his lips covered hers. His entire body topped hers and he struggled for a moment to make himself comfortable. He groaned quietly against her mouth and her stomach twisted with complete desire. She adjusted her legs underneath him and he did the same, hovering over her body teasingly. Her fingers gripped a patch of his hair as his tongue slipped into her mouth and she fell into his rhythm. Kiss, breath, smile, kiss, breath, repeat. Each time he smiled, she could feel his happiness radiate onto her.

"Hey," she murmured against his lips. "I fancy you."

Neville moved his lips away from her. She could feel his words on her skin as he said, "T-that's good, because I fancy you."

When he did not kiss her again, Lenore opened her eyes. Neville stared down at her lips, his forehead mere centimeters from hers as he blinked his long black eyelashes once.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He moved a bit farther back from her, so that he could see her entire face. He exhaled and she could feel his warm breath glide over her chest. His eyes scanned her face, seemingly attempting to memorize this moment. After a few seconds, his expression contorted as if he were going to cry.

"Neville!" She clutched his shoulders. "Why do you look like you're about to burst into tears?"

"No!" he said quickly, snapping out of his daze. "No, sorry. I feel the exact opposite of that."

"You don't look it."

His eyes scanned her face. "I… I just can't believe I'm on top of you."

She smiled. "Well, believe it."

"I-I'm trying."

She kissed him once with all the passion she could muster, then allowed her head to fall back against the cold ground. Neville gulped as she brushed the back of her hand down his cheek. "You're so handsome," she giggled.

His eyes widened. "T-thanks. Wow. So are you. I-I mean… you know."

He shook his head, obviously kicking himself for tripping over his words. She smiled as her fingers trailed his upper arms. "I know."

Lenore could not drag her gaze away from his eyes and he did not shift either. Her grin fell into pure admiration as she stared into his eyes. She knew they should return to snogging, but something about his eyes captivated her interest like nothing she had ever seen. His pupils huge, his sparkle glinting in the moonlight reflected off the lake, his big brown eyes staring at her with every emotion a human could feel at one time, but mainly adoration.

"Oh Merlin," she breathed. "The way you're looking at me."

He blinked heavily, but his eyes never lost luster. "W-w-what?"

She kept her eyes on him as he hovered suspended over her body. His heat was the only thing keeping her warm against the chilly grass.

"You're… you're just looking at me like… like I don't know. Tell me what you're thinking."

Neville flattened his lips and swallowed once. "I-I… I'm thinking about how c-completely stunning you are."

She smiled warmly. "That's what I was trying to say but I didn't want to sound vain."

He finally smiled once, seemingly relieved he had gotten those words out there. "I-I know you prefer to be told you're smart or funny, but… Merlin…"

He lost his nerve and sighed.

"You want me to tell you what you think of me?" she grinned.

He chuckled. "Y-yeah, s-s-sorry, you have no idea how anxious I am right now."

"Why?" she asked.

"I c-couldn't exactly tell y-you one reason."

"That's okay," she whispered playfully. "You're doing great."

He nodded. "O-o-okay, tell me what I think about you."

She giggled. "Alright. You think I'm absolutely beautiful."

"Yes."

"And you're thinking about badly you want to snog me, but you're nervous to be on top of me."

"D-definitely."

"And you're amazed that a year ago, you couldn't even dream about this."

He nodded. "All correct."

"Good," she smiled. "If I know what you're thinking, we could win The Newlywed Game."

His anxious face broke for a second as he chuckled. "We need to study for that."

"How about you just study my mouth for now?"

He smiled brightly and kissed her once more. He started to pull away, but she grabbed the back of this head and continued kissing him.

"Sorry," she murmured as she loosened her grip.

"No," he said between kisses. "It's fine. I just… wanted… to tell you… how happy you make me."

Lenore grinned and kissed him with even more fervor. His lips devoured hers until she went numb, so she encouraged him to move to her jaw. He kissed and sucked and bite everywhere he could before moving down to her neck once more. This time, he avoided the spot he knew she enjoyed and attempted to find a new spot. Right now, he was near the crook of her collarbone.

She moved her hands away from his back and slyly undid the first two buttons on her shirt, revealing the top of her breasts, but hiding her bra. He continued to kiss her neck, completely unaware of her intentions. She knew she could trick him into going lower.

Lenore arched her back and moaned, then in one swift motion, she scooted up higher, so that Neville's lips hit the top of her breasts.

She gasped at the sensation at once, his eyes opened wide. He started to lean away, but she shoved his face back down to her chest.

"Please," she begged.

He obeyed and kissed the top of her rounded breasts. Lenore could feel his lips shaking slightly, so she figured she should say something to calm his nerves. She groaned and clutched her hair between her fingers as his tongue touched her skin.

"You're so bloody good at this." She gasped, her eyes still shut tight. "Don't be nervous. I love it. You're doing great."

He hummed in appreciation, which made her giggle. "What can I do for you?"

"Your nails…" he muttered, "on my scalp."

"Alright," she smiled as she pressed the back of her nails lightly into his hair.

He continued to suck on her skin, until he pulled away to whimper, "And keep making noises."

"You like that?" she smiled.

"Love it," he returned the grin against her skin.

His lips trailed her breasts, his warm breath keeping her exposed skin from freezing.

It was odd, being restricted between the ground and him, but she loved his body against hers. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him even closer to her. Her hands trailed the length of his sides, occasionally gripping his shirt material if he kissed particularly well.

"Oh wow," she exhaled as he kissed the bare skin between her breasts. "Stay there."

His lips remained on her clavicle as she clutched her head tighter and wrapped her legs around his feet.

"Okay," she said. "Come back to my lips, please."

He nodded and returned to her face, his tongue slipping into her mouth instantly. She accidentally gave his tongue a powerful suck and he groaned.

"Sorry," she cringed.

"No!" He never let up his kissing. "Do it again, please."

"Suck your tongue like that?"

He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she obeyed. Her mouth tightened around his tongue in a slight sucking motion and again he groaned. It felt really weird, Lenore thought. Is this what boys like? None of the boys she kissed ever wanted their tongues sucked.

"Try it on me," she said.

She placed her tongue in his mouth and he copied her previous motions. She was right, it felt weird, not great.

"That doesn't do it for me."

"It does it for me," he smiled.

She giggled and kissed him once more. Her fingers massaged his head in slow, teasing circles, as his body heat drifted over her skin.

"Neville," she murmured.

"Yeah?" he gasped.

"Nothing," she said she she caught his lips once more. "I just like saying your name."

He whimpered in reply, but quickly stopped himself from making a louder noise. This gave Lenore the courage to say, "Make me moan."

"W-what?"

"You said you like making me moan," she exhaled. "Do it."

"O-o-on top you like this?"

"Yes."

He shifted his weight on his forearms rather clumsily, then moved down her neck. Her hands trailed up his back, before coming to rest in his hair while he went to work sucking and biting her skin, driving her to a state of blissful irrationality. He felt so bloody great on top of her, not to mention his tongue and lips on her body. Her fingers massaged his scalp as she struggled to stop herself from wrapping a leg around his back. She directed his head lower, to the tops of her breasts, and he groaned as his lips trailed her soft body.

"You're supposed to be making me moan," she giggled.

She felt him smile against her skin, before saying, "Then stop making me feel so bloody good."

The sensation of his words brushing her skin made her gasp and she shuddered underneath him.

"Was that a moan?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "That was a gasp. Keep going."

He saved the best spot for last, as he moved up to the crook of her neck. She threw her head back to give him better access and she could feel his breathing sharpen.

"Neville," she groaned. "Oh fuck, you're doing it again."

"What?" he asked.

"Whatever you were doing last time. Fuck, don't stop."

Three short, successive gasps escaped her lips as she flailed her hands for something to grab on to. She moaned when she gripped the back of his head, her fingers digging into his thick brown hair. Holy shit, this could not be Neville doing this to her. Neville Longbottom on top of a girl, making her cry out with delight. Lenore could not believe nobody knew what a great kisser he was. Hannah was a bloody idiot for practically telling him his kissing was disgusting. Unless he majorly changed something since then, but he never kissed her with anything less than perfection.

"Nev," she murmured again.

This time, he knew not to stop, which made her smile. His lips completely devoured her every sense, and she knew she would have a hickey the next day, but she did not care. He sucked on her skin until she could not take it anymore. She gasped and her hips involuntarily rose to meet this, causing him to grunt deeply. As soon as her back hit the soft grass once more, she froze. When she was at his hips, she thought she felt something. But she couldn't have. No, it was probably just his belt buckle. She almost wanted to ask him, but that would only embarrass him. She pushed the thought from her mind and whispered in his ear, "We better stop."

Neville pulled away, his face the brightest red she had ever seen. "S-s-sorry," he whispered.

Lenore watched him sit up, but she still laid on the ground. Before he could climb off her, she grabbed his hands. "Wait. Why are you sorry?"

He opened and closed his mouth several times and that's when she realized: he knew she had felt his erection.

"Oh," she said with wide eyes.

He cringed and she raised her torso, her legs still underneath him as he sat back on his knees. He avoided her gaze, but she had to be sure before she said something stupid. "Because when our hips touched…?"

He nodded and stole his hands away from her to bury his face in his palms.

"That's not why I thought we should stop," she said quietly. "Don't be embarrassed. T-those two are unrelated."

He kept his face in his hands and she pried his limbs away from himself. Finally, he looked her in the eye. "I-I-I really am sorry, Len. I-I didn't… I don't… I got carried away too soon. Merlin, I'm such a loser."

"No, hey," she said. "No you're not. I know how you feel, because I feel the same."

He groaned. "I-I'm still sorry. T-this is so awkward. I-I know you j-joked about me fainting like twenty minutes ago, but it's true. It's completely true. I-I need to fix this."

"No, honey, it's okay. Really. You're just… pent up. It's fine. These are your first somewhat-sexual experiences. It just takes time to get used to. And I know how much you fancy me and how long you've fancied me. I mean, this must be like a dream come true for you."

"I-it is," he whispered.

"Exactly. So, don't worry about it."

He nodded silently.

She frowned and wiggled her way out from under his knees. "Come here," she said as she stood up.

He took her hand and followed her upright. "What are we doing?"

"I'm going to push you in the lake to cool you down," she giggled.

He blushed, but still smiled at her.

"Just kidding, we're about to be super late for curfew," she said as she held tight to his hand. "And Neville, don't worry about it, really. You are the sweetest, nicest person on this planet and I'm so glad you're my boyfriend."

"B-b-boyfriend?" he stammered with a shocked look on his face.

That was the first time they had ever discussed calling each other an official title.

"Yeah," she squeezed his hand. "If you're okay with that."

"I-I'm more than okay with that."

She giggled and kissed him tenderly. Before she could pull away, Neville deepened their connection, obviously craving more than a gentle kiss. His lips devoured her every sense as he went to work sucking, biting, caressing her skin. She still could not believe how fantastic he was at kissing. His free hand wound its way to the back of her head and he kissed her with so much passion that she could feel every pang of her wild heart.

"God, I fancy you," he murmured against her lips.

"Okay, boyfriend," she chuckled.

He replied, "Okay, girlfriend."

As soon as those words escaped his mouth, his deep groan fell upon on her lips. It was almost embarrassingly loud, but it made Lenore smile.

"S-sorry," he muttered.

"No," she whispered on his lips. "You're great."

"Oh fucking hell," he moaned as he let go of her hand and dragged her body roughly against his. "You're so bloody incredible."

"Neville," she gasped in surprise. He had never manhandled her like this before, but she loved it.

His fingers dug into her back and he gave yet another long groan, which she gladly returned. His kisses became more frantic, as if he never wanted them to end.

"Just keep snogging me, please," he begged. "I don't want to go back yet."

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Get on the ground."

Without breaking their movement, he guided her down to the soft grass. He started to lay her down, but she pushed him on his back and climbed on top of him. Lenore hovered over him, touching her body against his every so often as her tongue overtook his own.

"Merlin," he breathed.

She pulled away just enough to see his eyes. "What?"

His face grew red under her fingertips. "Nothing," he said. "Just… you're on top of me."

Her smile was contagious. Neville returned the gesture nervously.

"I am," she said playfully. "Is that okay?"

She closed the minuscule gap between their lips. Neville muttered between kisses, "Merlin… yes."

He brought his hands up to grip her waist, steadying her body on his and pulling her closer to him. She deepened the kiss, her lips ravenous and excited, as he made a barely audible noise of delight against her mouth. He bit her bottom lip, his teeth softly etching her skin. It sent violent shudders through her body, which she realized must have been how he felt the first time they touched. She pushed his bangs away from his forehead and let her fingers rest in his hair.

Kissing him reminded her what it was like to be truly alive. Despite the bad events in the newspaper, despite the chaos in the Ministry, despite the death constantly surrounding their world, when she kissed him, she knew she was alive. Even when he took her breath away, her lungs burned with bliss. The way he looked at her made her never want to look anywhere else except at him. He was her favorite thing in the world to be near. She only hoped he felt the same way.

Neville slowly sat up, careful not to hurt her. She pulled away, thinking he was done, but his lips caught hers once more. "Sorry," he mumbled between broken kisses, "I just wanted to do this."

He held her back with his entire forearm and pressed her firmly against him. His lips moved down to her neck, behind her ear, and pressed her skin between his teeth. She smiled. "Look at you, all courageous."

He responded by taking her earlobe in his lips. The sensation made her clench her hands tighter to his scalp as she let out a quiet gasp. His warm breath heated up her neck. She whispered in his ear, "I love kissing you."

"Me, too," he murmured against her skin.

She giggled. "Talk more," she said, "I can feel your lips vibrating and I like it."

"What do I say?" he whispered.

A short moan escaped her mouth. "Anything."

Neville moved down her neck a couple centimeters. "Snargaluff plants have green pulsating pods inside," he muttered.

Lenore laughed. "Talk herbology to me."

His lips barely touched her skin. "The pods are roughly twenty-five centimeters in circumference."

She bit her lip to stop from giggling. She could feel Neville smile against her skin. It really was a wonderful sensation, his lips quavering across her neck.

"What else?" she asked.

"The vines of the plant are dangerous. They are covered in thorns and always ready to attack."

"Mmhm," she said, her eyes shut from pure pleasure.

One of his hands slipped just inside her shirt collar, over the warm skin beneath and he caressed the thick muscle in her neck. It was such an intimate, yet innocent gesture, but it drove Lenore mad.

"Neville," she moaned softly.

She could almost feel him melt into her arms. Her stomach clenched. "Do you like when I say your name?" she teased.

"Yes," he said, as a small whimper left his throat.

"I'll remember that."

He leaned back, dragging her down on top of him and his lips returned to her neck, the same spot where she had moaned before, which made her gasp. He was learning quickly and soon becoming an expert at making her feel elation. No matter how hard she tried, her eyes could not stay open while he sucked on that spot on her neck. She clutched the top of his head like she was drowning and he was a life preserver.

Her hips ground into his, which surprised her as much as it did him. She did it once more and the pair moaned together. She could feel his slight hard-on, but at the moment, she did not care. He felt too bloody good to care about details. Once more, she ground her pelvis into his and he shuddered underneath her. After a recovery pause, he kissed her with even more desire. When his tongue hit her skin, she moaned louder than she had ever heard herself, "Neville."

In return, he groaned into her neck, "Oh _fuck_ , Lenore."

Lenore wished her mind could form a sentence. Right now, she could not think of anything except how good he felt against her. She wanted to tell him something, anything, to encourage him, but her mouth could not do anything except make quiet gasps. She figured he got the idea from those noises. She could not believe how loudly he just groaned. He never moaned or made any noises of enjoyment. His words surrounded her head and pounded their way into her brain, only furthering her excitement. Her hips ground into his, deep and without a worry in the world, until he gasped.

"Wait! Wait. Sorry."

Lenore immediately halted her lip movements and hovered over him. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, his eyes sealed shut. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm so sorry. Just give me a minute."

She bit her lip and nodded, even though he could not see her. His chest rose and fell in uneven intervals as he attempted to catch his breath. He placed the crook of his elbow over his eyes. Lenore watched him struggling to gain control over himself and his body.

"Okay," he said after a minute. "I'm good. W-w-we can keep kissing if you want."

He still did not make eye contact with her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he said loudly, as if his own words would convince him. "Yeah. I'm really sorry."

Lenore bit her cheek, then decided to come clean. "If we were older, I would definitely fuck you right now."

Neville's eyes shot open. "What?"

Her courage folded and she cringed. "If we were like twenty, I would've slept with you on the second or third date. My only hesitation is that we're sixteen."

He nodded. "Y-y-yeah, I understand."

"It's just more complicated at our age," she shrugged.

He began to take deep breaths once more and Lenore giggled. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I don't know," he said sarcastically. "The girl I've fancied for nearly two years just said she wanted to fuck me, so maybe I'm not super relaxed right now."

She smiled. "Sorry."

He shook his head. "No! Sorry. God, you're so beautiful right now. Always, really."

She leaned down, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear, "So, you'd want to fuck me, too?"

Lenore could actually see his body nervously shake underneath her. "I—I—I—"

But he stopped.

She giggled and kissed his cheek. "It's okay, don't worry about it. We'll work our way up to it. I'm thinking around January we can start doing hands or mouth, if that's something you'd be interested in."

"I-I-I would."

She laughed. "Alright. Because I'd be seventeen by that time and you'd be sixteen and a half. I feel like that's more reasonable. We'd be mature enough to handle it. And together long enough to be comfortable."

She could not tell if he was nodding or shaking from nerves.

"You're so handsome," she smiled as she brushed a hand down his cheek. "I love how pretty your face is."

He finally gave her a look other than fear— admiration. "Len, I… I do want you."

"Yeah?" she grinned playfully.

He nodded. "Merlin, I… I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I don't want to say 'fuck you,' b-b-because… I don't know. You're more than that. I-I-I don't really like other words either. 'Shag' sounds weird. So do 'sleep with' and 'make love.' Nothing sounds right. I… I guess what I want to say is… I want to be close to you. No matter if t-that's… snogging or more… or just talking to each other. I-I mean, obviously talking isn't the same thing as s-sex but… You know what I mean. I'm rambling."

She kissed his jaw three languid times in a row. "I understand."

He nodded. "T-t-thank you. You always do."

"I can offer you something other than sex though," she said.

"A swift kick in the arse?" he smiled.

"No," she laughed. Her voice quieted. "Do you want to touch my boobs?"

Neville's entire body froze. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. "What?"

She bit her lip. "You can touch my breasts. If you want."

"I—I—I—er." He stammered out some meaningless noises as his face flushed red. Her words obviously caused him tremendous anxiety.

"You don't have to," she said quickly. "I just thought I'd offer."

"N-n-no," he said. "D-d-do you want m-m-me to?"

She nodded. "Only if you want to."

"I-I-I w-w-want to."

"Yeah?" she smiled.

"Y-yes. O-only if you p-promise m-me that's a-alright."

"It's perfectly alright with me," she said. "I don't want you to see them, though. Under the shirt only."

"Yes!" he said quickly. "Of course! W-whatever you want."

She gave him a soft smile and reached around her back to unhook her bra. At once, the two ends sprung apart and the cups hovered above her skin. Neville gulped, clearly intimidated.

"Give me your hand," she whispered. "Touch them through the shirt first, to get yourself used to it."

He nodded as she positioned herself on top of him. She reached down her shirt to move the cup, then took his hand in hers. "So, how are you?" she giggled as she played with his fingers.

"I-I-I'm great. H-how are you?"

"I'm also great," she grinned. "You're not nervous?"

Finally, he gave a tiny smile. "I-I-I am."

"No way. I couldn't tell."

He smiled widened and as he blinked, she placed his palm flat on her left breast. His smile faded at once and he moved his eyes from her face to his hand.

"They aren't big," she said. "At all."

"No!" he argued. "They're perfect. Wow."

She grinned. "Thanks…"

He exhaled and moved his gaze to her face. "What, what should I do?"

She glanced down. "Whatever you want, I guess."

"Bloody hell," he breathed. "O-okay."

Still, his hand remained motionless. After a moment, Lenore placed her hand on top of his and began to jiggle her breast. His mouth dropped open.

"J-j-just do that?" he asked.

"Do whatever you want," she said kindly. "You can even kiss me while you're doing it if that makes you less nervous."

He gladly took her up on the offer, so she leaned down to kiss him. He slid up closer to her face and she prepared to kiss him again, but her massive amount of brown hair covered his face. He moved his hand away from her chest for a brief moment to shove her hair out of his mouth.

She giggled. "Sorry."

"No problem," he smiled. "At all."

This next time, he reached up with two hands to grip both her breasts.

"Wow," he exhaled.

She smiled as he jolted her breasts under his palm. He was just as awkward as she thought he would be, but everything he did made her want to laugh out loud. She refrained, not wanting to hurt his pride. Again, he simply raised and lowered her breasts in his hand.

"Wow," he repeated.

Finally, she broke down into giggles. "You're an odd duck."

He flushed red and immediately stopped his movement. "S-sorry."

"No," she grinned. "You're doing great. Give me your finger, I want to try something."

She grabbed his flat hand and moved it to the center of her chest, so that it was not touching her breast. She placed his middle finger directly on top of her nipple and said, "Circle it."

He obeyed and began to lightly move his fingertip over her shirt.

She gasped and he immediately stopped. "Does that hurt?"

"No!" she said louder than she meant. "That was a good noise!"

"A-a-alright. Sorry."

She attacked his lips immediately. His finger still gently caressed her nipple and Lenore felt like she was on a cloud.

"Mmm," she groaned against his mouth.

He returned the noise and grabbed her breast full-on. She arched her back into his hand and he gripped her skin under his fingertips.

"Fucking hell," he muttered against her tongue.

She leaned away to giggle. "You're the cutest."

He smiled shyly. "T-tell me what to do."

"I want you to do whatever you want," she said.

He hesitated. "Can we sit up a minute? I-it's kind of strange raising my arms, a-and I can tell you're not as comfortable as you could be. W-w-we can come back to this."

"Sure!" she said. "Of course. Also, you don't mind missing curfew, do you?"

"I would get detention every night for the rest of the year if it meant I could do this," he said before thinking.

Immediately, his face burned red. "Fuck, sorry."

She yanked his face up to hers and kissed him deeply.

"Okay, sit up," she said as she smiled at his disoriented facial expression.

Lenore sat back on his knees as he wiggled his way upright. As they made eye contact, she giggled again.

"Why are you laughing?" he chuckled.

"Because I'm nervous," she smiled warmly.

"You're nervous?" his eyes widened.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He bit his cheek. "H-h-has anyone touched you there before?"

She nodded. "Blaise has. But I wasn't nervous because I didn't care about him. I'm nervous because I really fancy you and I want you to… you know… like them. Like me."

He scanned her face for a moment, then kissed her sweetly. "I do like you," he said as he pulled away. "Merlin, I like you so much. I… I can't believe this is happening. All of this. This entire relationship. Bloody hell. You're so beautiful. And nice. You're being so, so nice to me right now. And always. Merlin, you're completely wonderful."

Another shy smile from her. "You're not stuttering anymore."

"I can't stutter when I'm in complete awe," he whispered.

"How about you reach under my shirt and see if that won't make you stutter?" she played.

He smiled. "I'll try not to throw up from nervousness."

"Not again, at least," she teased.

He squinted his eyes in mock annoyance, then glanced down at the hem of her jumper. He did not move, so Lenore prodded his hands under the material and his icy fingertips brushed her hip bone.

"Holy shit," she gasped. "Your hands are freezing!"

Neville moved his limb away from her skin. "S-sorry!"

Lenore grabbed her wand and performed a warming spell over his hands and the surrounding air. Timidly, Neville touched his fingers to her skin once more. "I-is that better?"

"That's great," she smiled reassuringly.

His fingers edged up her smooth skin and he stopped when he got to the base of her ribs. He hesitated and stared down at the front of her shirt.

"Okay," he exclaimed. "Wait. Talk to me."

"Talk to you?" she raised her brow.

"Y-y-yeah, please. I need a pep talk."

"You need a pep talk to touch my breasts?"

He nodded and became red once more. "I-I-I'm so sorry. Please?"

She kissed his lips, then leaned in to his ear. "Alright, lads, you've played a great game out there."

His cheeks turned up in a smile.

"But this right here, this is the quarter-finals. This isn't just another game. If you win this one, it's on to the second round. And one day maybe even the championship game, if you know what I mean."

He inhaled sharply, but laughed.

"You've worked hard to get here. You've earned your place in the final rounds. You're a great bunch of men and you're going to take this game and kick it in the balls. Well, actually you're going to gently pinch its nipples. But that's how you win the game. So get out there and give it hell, because you are here for a reason."

Neville chuckled as his eyes met hers.

"Go, Neville," she encouraged him. "Come on. Grab them."

He slid his hands up her ribs until he cupped both her bare breasts in his palms.

"Wow," he exhaled as he tore his eyes away from her face. "Wow. Oh Merlin, wow."

"Quit," she laughed. "Calm down."

"I-I-I can't. Wow. Bloody hell. I'm touching your breasts. Holy fuck, I'm touching Lenore Henry's breasts. Merlin H. Wizard."

She kissed him once to shut him up. "I'm telling you to calm down," she giggled.

He nodded. "Y-y-you don't know how much this means to me."

"Why, you have wet dreams about this?"

His adoration descended into pure embarrassment. "No."

She smirked. "Uh huh."

"Oh Merlin," he exhaled. "I can't even focus on arguing with you."

She kissed him once, then leaned away to giggle. "Well, are you going to do anything except hold them?"

He gulped. "Just give me a minute."

Her lips met his again and she wound her fingers behind his head. After about a minute of kissing, he gave her breast a small squeeze and stopping returning the lip movements.

"What are you doing?" she asked after about thirty seconds of solo kissing.

He blinked. "W-w-what?"

"You're forgetting to kiss me," she laughed.

"O-oh, sorry!" he cringed. "Merlin, you're the best person on this planet."

She shook her head and giggled. "Why?"

He kissed her. "For letting me do this."

"I'm not letting you do this, we're doing this together."

"You're right!" he said. "Wow. I can't believe it."

"Squeeze them some more," she said.

He hesitated, then gripped her flesh between his fingers and palms. Slowly, his fingers individually pressed into her boob, which collapsed easily into his finger but remained dense in his entire hand. After that, he began to lightly squeeze her round breasts into his palm.

"That feels good," she smiled. "Like a little massage."

He laughed shortly then fell back into a mix of anxiety and awe. "Y-y-you like nipples, right?"

"Do I like you touching my nipples?"

"Yeah!" he clarified. "Sorry. I didn't mean that you like nipples… in general."

She giggled. "Just keep feeling around for now. We can do more later. I want you to explore."

He stared at her a moment, not moving his hands, until he finally slide his hands around to her bare back and kissed her tenderly.

"You're so sweet," he whispered.

She grinned. "Thanks. You are, too."

"I don't think I tell often enough how kind you are," he said as his fingers dug into her lower shoulder blades. "You're so nice and patient with me."

She kissed him again.

"I'm serious," he continued. "I-I don't know how that would have gone down with another girl. You put me at ease. You always do."

"That was 'at ease?'" she raised her brow and smiled.

He nodded. "It really was. I wasn't that nervous."

"You totally were."

"Well… maybe," he admitted. "I don't know. Either way, I want you to know how much you mean to me. And I mean you as a person, not you as your breasts. I don't know if I made that clear earlier."

"You're good," she kissed him. "I fancy you."

"I fancy you," he murmured against her lips.

"Okay, so grab my tits and when you get tired of that we can sneak back into the castle."

He laughed. "Mmm, but don't you know I'll never get tired of this?"

"Let's hope," she smiled.

And so the pair stayed outside, in the cold October air, next to the shining lake, wrapped in each other's warmth and glee.

.

Lenore only slept about six hours that night. She and Neville did not return to their dormitories until nearly one a.m. and she had to wake at eight to get ready for the day. Tonight was the Slug Club Halloween party, which Margaux had been meticulously planning for nearly two weeks. The theme was… actually Lenore had no idea. Margaux had talked a lot about mad scientist type stuff, so maybe that. The older sister had not been playing close attention. All she knew is that she still needed to put in more work on her half of the couple costume. Of course, Neville had finished his half a week ago.

Lenore sat up in bed and drew her curtains, only hazily aware of her surroundings. Her pajama shirt fell open over one shoulder, but she took not notice. Every roommate was awake, save for Pansy. Blair sat on her dresser apply makeup in front of a small mirror, Odette leaned against her headboard, still clad in pajamas, and Circe was putting on a jumper.

"Good morning," Circe chirped. "You came in late last night."

The other two girls grinned. "Out with Neville?" asked Odette.

Lenore nodded. "Yeah, sorry if I woke any of you."

"You didn't wake Blair," Circe smiled. "She was out even later."

"Well, I would expect so, what with the engagement that night."

Blair dusted her cheeks with a bit of rouge. "I fucked him good, that's all I'll say."

"That's the whole story," Odette giggled.

"That's most of it," Blair admitted.

Lenore adjusted her shirt collar and she watched Odette's eyes double.

"Lenore!" Odette practically shouted.

"What?" the girl said as she wrapped herself sheets tighter around her chilly body.

"You have about three love bites!"

Lenore glanced down at her neck, but soon realized how idiotic that was to even try. She hopped up and looked in the bathroom mirror while Blair and Circe sat up excitedly and craned their necks. Lenore examined herself in the mirror, and her eyes came across a large purple bruise on the crook of her neck that was the size of a sickle. She inhaled sharply and could hear Odette giggling. Her eyes trailed over her neck, catching two smaller blue bruises, one just above her collarbone and one where her neck met her shoulders.

Lenore pulled her shirt closer to her body and popped the collar, but two bruises were still highly visible. "Nooo," she whined. "This is so embarrassing."

"I can heal them for you," Blair offered through giggles.

"No!" Circe shouted. "Let Longbottom see his work!"

"What?" Odette asked. "Why?"

"Blokes love that kind of stuff," Circe grinned. "He'll feel like he's marked you."

"Ew," Lenore winced, thankful Circe could not see her face from inside the bathroom.

"No," Circe rolled her eyes. "It will give him confidence, I promise you. He'll be more likely to do it again."

Lenore returned to her bed. "I guess I can show him. But how am I supposed to go to brunch like this?"

"Makeup, honey," Blair said. "Then just use the cleaning spell to get rid of it. But show him soon, before they fade."

"Okay, I'll do it at breakfast. I need to get ready. I expect this breakfast will be a parade of your engagement ring?"

Blair smirked. "Honey, why else would I be putting on all this makeup?"

The girls smiled and Lenore hopped out of bed. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, put the bare minimum of powder, lipstick, and eyebrow filler on her face, and began to change. Black opaque tights climbed her legs, then a black skirt, an finally she removed her shirt to add a bra. Bras were her least favorite article of clothing, so she always kept the article until last. The side of her thumb brushed her breast as her shirt rose over her head.

"Ow!" she whispered, but not quiet enough.

"What's wrong?" Blair asked.

Lenore glanced down at her bare chest and noticed nothing amiss. Until she saw it. A tiny, blue, thumb-sized bruise on her right breast.

She gasped.

"Len, what's wrong?" Circe asked.

The entire room, save for the still-sleeping Pansy, stared at Lenore's bare back. She did not have time to think up a lie.

"I have a bruise," she gapped. "On my tit."

Every roommate was silent. Lenore hurried to clasp her bra behind her back, before she turned around to face them. Each mouth hung open, staring at her.

Finally, Blair managed to ask, "A bruise? On your tit?"

"From Longbottom?" Circe said with glee.

Lenore nodded.

At once, the three girls began to scream in excitement. Circe grabbed Odette's hand as they laughed giddily. Blair gave a short round of applause.

Pansy drew back her bed curtains. "What the bloody hell is going on?!"

"Longbottom gave Lenore bruises!" Blair grinned.

"One on her tit!" added Circe.

Lenore blushed as Pansy eyed her. She rolled her eyes and said, "So that's what you two did when I left."

Lenore nodded. "Yeah."

"How was it?" Odette asked.

"I can't believe you let him grab your boobs," Circe gapped.

"I can't believe you let him anywhere near you," Pansy said.

Lenore ignored Pansy's comment and turned to Circe. "That was the first time I let him."

Circe squealed in delight. "You'll be fucking in no time."

"It's a slippery slope," Blair nodded.

"And she's not talking about her vagina," said Pansy.

The girls actually giggled at Pansy's comment, before Lenore gathered her neutral face. "We actually talked about that and both of us are too scared to do anything like that yet."

"That'll change fast," said Blair.

Odette nodded. "You'll get more comfortable around each other within a couple months and then you'll stop caring."

"Please do not talk about Longbottom fucking anyone," Pansy groaned. "I don't even want to imagine his nasally voice moaning."

"His voice isn't nasally," Lenore rolled her eyes.

"High-pitched," Pansy corrected.

"It's not," she fought back. "And I'll have you know, I love his noises."

Pansy gagged but the other girls squealed.

"Is he loud?" Circe asked.

"He's so quiet normally, though," added Odette.

Blair did not skip a beat. "Maybe he's loud when he's comfortable."

"He's louder than I think you all would guess," said Lenore. "Last night… no, I better not tell you."

"Tell us!" demanded Circe.

"YES!" called Blair and Odette as Pansy cringed.

Lenore bit her lip and grabbed a shirt from her dresser. "He… okay, so I was on top of him, grinding on him."

Another screech of glee from every roommate, minus Pansy.

"I really like grinding," Lenore continued. "Like, I'm pretty sure I'm going to like it more than sex. I like teasing him."

"Len, that's so bad," interjected Pansy. "You can't be a tease!"

"It's fine," Blair waved. "Boys need to be teased a little bit or they'll never build up stamina."

"Did you have to do that with Mallory?" asked Odette.

Blair nodded. "For sure. He finished in about fifty seconds the first time we had sex."

Pansy laughed loudly. "Wow."

Blair placed a hand on her hip. "Oh yeah? And how long does Draco last?"

"Long enough to make me cum," said Pansy.

"You've cum off penetration?" asked Circe, wide-eyed.

"Yeah?" said Pansy.

"Just penetration, nothing else?"

Another hesitant, "Yeah."

"Bloody hell, I never have," said Circe. "The only thing that works for me is oral or hand."

"You have all that sex and you've never cum off penetration?" asked Pansy.

"I didn't for a long time," said Blair. "It took us a while to find what works. And Mallory and I have just as much sex as Circe. You've just got to find the right person."

"Blaise is really, really, great at oral," Circe chimed in. "Like really—"

"STOP," Pansy interrupted. "Stop! I don't want to know!"

Circe smirked. "Back to Longbottom."

Lenore finished giggling at her roommates. "It's all going to sound so tame now."

"No!" Circe argued. "We want to hear! So, you were grinding on him."

Lenore began dabbing nude makeup onto her hickeys. "Yeah, so you guys asked if he was loud. I was grinding on him and all of a sudden, he hit me just right and I said his name pretty loudly. I think it was the loudest I've ever groaned. I'm not sure what about it he liked. I either hit him just right, too… or I know he loves it when I say his name. Either way… okay, I'm going to demonstration how loud he was. It was the loudest thing I've ever heard him say. Ever. While making out or even just talking. I was on top of him, I just yelled his name, and he goes…"

Lenore raised her voice so loud that she was sure anyone in the hallway could hear her, "Oh _fuck_ , Lenore!"

The girls all gasped.

"Holy shit!" shouted Odette.

"Bloody hell!" added Circe. "He was really into it!"

"Oh he was super into it, because he made me stop after another minute. He needed to calm down."

"Damn," Blair raised her eyebrows. "He wants to fuck your brains out."

Circe and Odette squealed.

"I'm sure he touched himself as soon as he returned to his dormitory," Lenore shrugged. "I could feel his erection through his trousers."

"NO WAY," shouted Circe. "How was it?"

"It— I don't know. How's it supposed to feel?"

"Good? Big?" she grinned.

"Er… I'm not sure. Okay, I have a question, Circe."

The girl nodded.

"Is Blaise's penis skinny?"

She pondered the question a moment. "Yeah, it is. Compared to others I've seen, he's long, but he's thin."

"Okay, that's what I thought," Lenore said. "I knew he felt different than Neville. I don't know about length, but I think Neville is thicker."

"Oh god," she buried her face in her hands. "Why am I telling you all this?"

Blair laughed. "Wait, you've felt Blaise's dick?"

Lenore nodded. "That one time we made out, he was a pretty big fan of shoving it against my hipbone."

Odette asked, "Are those the only penises you've felt through clothes? Because I'm sure we all have horror stories."

Pansy nodded along. "One time I hugged Goyle after a huge quidditch win and his tiny little dick poked me in the leg."

"He had an erect at a quidditch game?" Lenore raised her brow.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "That big-titted red-head a year below us kept jumping up and down."

Odette giggled. "I went on a date with Wayne Hopkins and he dropped me off at the door before he went back to Hufflepuff. I hugged him, which clearly surprised him, because he had a massive erection tucked under his waistband."

"So, there was no second date?" Blair laughed.

"No, I gave him a handjob," said Odette.

"ODETTE!" Lenore laughed as the other girls shrieked in disgust. Only Lenore she was joking.

"I'm kidding!" she smiled. "Yeah, no, I definitely didn't do anything with Wayne."

Lenore thought a moment. "I've felt Neville's, Blaise's, Oliver's, Seamus's, Fred's, but the only penis I've actually seen is George Weasley's."

Pansy cringed. "How?"

"They change in front of my friend group all the time without a care in the world," she scoffed.

"And how was it?" Circe smirked.

Lenore gagged. "All penises are ugly."

Blair nodded. "True."

"Draco's is lovely," Pansy chimed in.

All the girls watched as if she were an escaped mental patient.

"You're lying," Circe said. "They're all weird looking."

Pansy got a haughty look on her face. "Tastes fine."

"Ew," Odette cringed.

"Okay," Pansy held up a finger, "just because you won't do mouth stuff—"

Circe interjected, "Blaise tasted like rusty coins!"

"EW!" Pansy gagged. "Circe, I hate you!"

Circe squinted. "Best tasting I've ever had is Stephen Cornfoot."

"You didn't suck Stephen off!" Blair shouted at Circe. "Oh my god, how is that kid not a virgin?"

"Oh, he's a virgin," Circe said. "Probably still is. He's cute! A little round, but he's got a cute face and he was really nice to me. I like messing around with quiet guys sometimes. They're shy, so I get to be in charge. I like giving them blow jobs. It makes me feel powerful. I like when they moan, like I have them in the palm of my hand. That is a bigger turn on than sex."

"That's so weird," said Pansy.

"Not really," chimed in Lenore. "I agree with the power thing. I wasn't into Blaise because I wasn't the controlling one. With Neville, I'm dominant and it's really hot."

"Thank you," Circe nodded. "They trust me so much. I could bite their dick off at any moment, but I don't. Do you realize how powerful that makes me? Right before the cum, I could tell them to do anything and they would do it. They're desperate. They're frustrated. And I'm the only one who can help them. It's great, really."

Lenore was highly impressed with Circe's answer and she mostly agreed. However, it was clear Odette and Pansy were freaked out. Circe noticed Odette's pinched face.

"Don't you feel that when you give handjobs?" she asked.

"I only give them handjobs if they get me off first. And if they can't get me off, I don't do anything for them."

Circe and Lenore nodded, impressed. "Wow," Lenore said. "That's very feminist. I love it."

"What the fuck," Pansy said. "How do you convince them to do it?"

Odette squinted. "I don't date tossers."

Pansy opened her mouth to argue, but before she could get a word out, Lenore called out a goodbye, grabbed her backpack, and headed down to breakfast to find Neville and show him the bruises. Luckily enough, she caught him with Dean and Seamus right before he entered the Great Hall. His brown hair still appear disheveled, as it did the night before when she ran her hands through it.

"Hey!" she called at him.

Neville stopped in his tracks and grinned as he met her halfway. He always smiled the first time he saw her for the day. The small gesture made Lenore's heart rate increase every single time.

"Can I show you something?" she asked. "It can be after breakfast, but sometime."

Neville glanced back at Dean and Seamus, who had already found seats inside. "Show me now."

"Okay," she said. "We'll have to go somewhere private."

"Oh," his eyes widened.

"Shut up," she giggled as she smacked his chest with the back of her hand. "We're not going to snog."

"You never know," he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. "Come here."

She clutched his hand and he followed her down a staircase, through a hallway, to another hallway, and finally to a bench in a dark, cold place near the dungeons. The area was silent, only the faint echo of water dripping could be heard. Not a student was in sight.

"Okay," she said. "It's kind of dark down here, but it's fine. You'll be able to see.

She waved her wand over her skin and Neville's eyes immediately flew to her neck. He took in the sight of her three bruises and his mouth parted. He glanced between her eyes and neck.

"I-I-I did that to you?"

"Yeah!"

He continued to gap to her, his eyes examining her skin as if he were a healer. "I… did that… to you?"

"Yes!" she giggled.

"Bloody hell," he exhaled. "I'm so sorry."

She was visibly surprised, which in turn shocked him. "What? Don't be sorry!"

"What… what should I be?" he asked as he brought a hand to her skin. His thumb just barely brushed the bruise on her collarbone.

"You should be proud!" Lenore argued.

"D-don't they hurt?"

"No!" she laughed. "No, I'm showing you because Circe told me blokes like to see their work. She said you've marked me."

"Ew," he cringed.

"That's what I said!" she smiled. "That's almost exactly how our exchange went down. So, you don't feel proud?"

"I…"

Again, he glanced between her neck and her eyes. "I mean, I like it. I like knowing… Wow… I did this to you? Blimey. I can't believe it. I never thought I could… Bloody hell."

As he spoke, his thumb stroked her next bruise at the base of her neck, then finally made its way just below her jaw.

"Lenore… Wow. This… I'm not going to lie, I like this. As long as it doesn't hurt you."

"It doesn't," she said. "Just a little embarrassing. I'll get rid of them as soon as you're done looking."

He stared at her skin for another few moments before kissing her lips tenderly. He moved down to her neck and kissed each of her hickeys. "This… wow."

Lenore could tell he was struggling to reveal his feelings. "Just tell me your honest thoughts," she smiled.

Neville looked over her one more time, before kissing near the ear. Whenever he got nervous, he would whisper in her ear, because it meant he did not have to look her in the eye.

"I can't believe I did this. To you, especially. I feel so… I don't know. I feel powerful. I don't like that phrase, 'marking you' or whatever, but I did this to you. Me. Holy shit. I don't know how I feel. I-I like being the more submissive one in the relationship, I guess you would call it, but would you call what we did yesterday me being dominant?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Then… I like that, too. I just… I feel like a man."

Lenore could see his cheeks burn scarlet.

"A-a-and I've never felt that before."

Lenore turned to look him in the eye, which brought back some of his anxiety. "You've never felt like a man? What?"

"I—"

Now he was obviously nervous.

"I've just never— I don't know. I'm not— It's hard for me to put into words. I just don't participate in stereotypically manly things, you know?"

"Like what?"

"Like… I-I enjoy quidditch but I couldn't tell you much more than the basic rules. I don't get in fights, mostly. I-I rarely drink. I don't go after women. I've never… really taken charge of anything in my life. I-I'm fine being a follower. A-and even when I speak up, it doesn't feel manly, it's just something anybody would do, for the common good. S-snogging you last night is the first time I've ever really felt like… a man."

His face was now bright cherry red, as was Lenore's. Before she could speak, Neville groaned. "Oh Merlin, I've even given you second-hand embarrassment!"

Her laugh broke the tension for a brief couple seconds, but the pair quickly fell back into anxiousness.

"I understand that," she replied quietly. "Men have so many expectations placed on them to constantly be these testosterone-filled beings who never make a mistake and speak their mind and use force to get what they want. But that's not what being a man is, at least not to me. Being a man means caring for those around you. It means contributing to the common good, no matter how they choose to do that. Being a man is actually the exact opposite of a lot of what you said. It's not fighting people, it's having enough restraint not to fight people. It's the maturity to not get drunk every weekend or scream at quidditch players or make unnecessary comments. That's the different between being a man and being a boy, and honestly, Neville, you've been a man for as long as I've known you. Since you were thirteen, at least."

Neville stood stunned, as Lenore continued. "You are a man, Neville. You're a better man than ninety-nine percent of the blokes at this school and probably in the world. You take charge the perfect amount. You offer wise advice. You tell people your thoughts and listen to their problems and try your best to help people succeed. You are the perfect combination of maturity and restraint that being a man is all about."

She placed a hand on him and began rubbing his upper arm. "I'm glad you felt that way last night. I want you to feel like that more often. Our relationship is a partnership. It's true, I tend to be the dominant one in most situations, but that's not a reflection on you. Just because I'm dominant in some areas, doesn't mean you can't be dominant in other areas, too. Or the same areas. I know I like to be dominant in, well, almost everything, but I need someone to keep me in check. I like it when you take charge. Especially when we're snogging."

"Y-you do?" he raised his brow.

"Yeah," she smiled warmly. "It puts less pressure on me. I want you to feel like a man every time you're around me. I can be quite mean, to men especially. If I ever say something to you that emasculates you, just let me know. Some blokes need to be emasculated, but you don't. You're perfect the way you are."

"Alright," he smiled. "Thank you."

"Okay?" she returned the grin and angled her neck to his gaze. "Now, admire your work, you hunk of manliness."

Neville flushed red once more and she kissed him with a giggle. As she leaned away, she moved to his ear. "Tell me what I can do to make you feel like a man."

"N-nothing," he said. "it's up to me to make myself feel that way."

"Alright," she smiled. "You're right. One hundred percent right. But tell me some instances you felt the most manly."

"I-I felt it last night, when I was snogging you."

"Good," she grinned. "When else do you feel that definition of 'manly'— caring, mature, and restrained?"

He thought a while. "W-when I comfort you. Or anyone, I guess."

She smiled again. "Any other times?"

"When I'm doing manual labor. W-when we're sitting together and you lay your head on my shoulder. T-the period immediately after I visit my parents."

Lenore kissed his lips gently. "Good, good. You are a man, Neville. Your definition was just messed up. I can assure you, I think of you as all man."

He smiled faintly, then shook his head. "I-I never thought of any of those things as manly. I thought they felt weak."

"No!" she said at once. "The opposite. All of those are strong. I'm not very good at comforting people. And I sure couldn't… I couldn't handle seeing my parents like that. You're so brave."

"T-thanks."

His smile was more genuine this time around, so she returned the gesture. "Alright, that was your pep talk for the day. Hurry up and let's move past these issues. I've got things to do, people to see, emotions to ignore."

Neville laughed, before saying, "H-hey, Len? You said you were going to get rid of the hickeys but… can you leave one?"

"Wait!" she said. "I almost forgot!"

She began unbuttoning her shirt and Neville's eyes grew wide. He placed a hand over hers. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

She shoved his hand away from her. "It's fine!"

"We're in public!"

"Hush," she said. "I'm just going to show you a little part."

Neville gulped as she peeked down her shirt and angled her breasts just right, so that he could see the bruise near the top, but nothing majorly revealing. She undid one more button so he could see, and she said, "Look."

Neville tore his eyes away from her face and peered down at her rounded breast. He blinked once. "What?"

"The bruise!" she said.

He squinted but hesitated to lean forward. Lenore rolled her eyes, grabbed the back of his head, and dragged him closer to her chest.

"Bloody hell!" he gasped. "Oh Merlin, I did that?"

"No, I hit my tit on a doorknob."

His eyes flickered to hers and he smiled. He quickly turned his gaze back to the bruise. "I'm sorry."

"No!" she laughed. "Quit apologizing. I like it."

He nodded once, his eyes still glued to her chest. When he noticed his intense focus, he snapped out of his daze and met her mocking eyes.

"Taking it all in?" she laughed.

"I… yeah," he admitted.

She smiled. "So, that's the bruise I'm going to leave. You'll know it's there, but nobody else will."

"Wow," he exhaled. "It's our secret."

"Yeah, you, me, and all my roommates."

He groaned. "Lenore…"

She giggled. "Sorry! I gasped when I found it and they thought I was having a stroke. I had to tell them!"

"Alright, so I get to tell Dean and Seamus."

Her bra cup sprung back into placed as she removed her hand. "I figured you would anyway."

"We… we actually haven't been talking that much lately."

"No?" she asked with concern.

He shook his head. "Dean's busy with Ginny and Seamus is worried about Katie. I think he's going to talk to you about her later today."

"Yeah! He's more than welcome to!"

Neville nodded. "I'll let him know. Are we going to his anti-Slug Club party afterwards?"

"For sure. I mean, the name he came up with makes it worth going."

"Bootlegged Bootlickers? You think that is a good name?"

"Yes!" she laughed. "You don't? It's so creative."

"I don't get it."

"Bootlegged because he'll have alcohol—"

"Well, I understand that part."

"A bootlicker is like a kiss-ass. Or a brown-noser. He's mocking all the wannabes in the Slug Club."

"Ohhh!" Neville finally laughed. "Wow. Damn. I'm really impressed now."

"Me too!"

"Is your costume done?"

"Yeah," she lied. "Mostly."

He eyed her knowingly, but changed the subject. "So… what else did you tell your roommates?"

"About last night?"

"Yeah."

"I always tell them what a great kisser you are," she blushed. "And I told them how much I liked grinding on you last night."

Neville's lips parted. "Bloody hell, me too."

She smiled. "I liked when you yelled my name."

"Me too," he breathed.

"I liked when you had to stop. That made me feel good, like I was getting to you."

"Y-y-you were," he stammered. "Quite a bit."

"I think we're at a weird stage right now," she said. "We're fairly comfortable around each other, right?"

"I think so."

"But it's still kind of the honeymoon period when everything is going smoothly and we don't fight."

"Er… are you expecting us to fight?"

"No!" she clarified. "Not anytime soon. You don't really do anything worth me getting mad."

"Neither do you."

"But anyway," she said, "so we're at this weird stage where we're comfortable and we're extra giddy for each other. And that makes snogging different than it was before."

"D-different?"

"Better. More fulfilling, and at the same time, never enough."

"I agree completely."

"So, we just need to learn when to calm down."

"Yes," he nodded. "So… it's bad that I want to snog you right now?"

She grinned as her heart skipped a beat. "Not bad. Just not ideal."

"You're ideal," he attempted to flirt.

She rolled her eyes with a laugh and stood up. "Okay! I need to go eat breakfast."

He bit his cheek and stood as well. "Yeah, I almost forgot."

Lenore stared at him a moment, taking in his shapely pink lips, soft brown eyes, and beautiful cheekbones. Her lips met his before she could stop herself and Neville eagerly returned the gesture.

"We shouldn't be kissing right now," she laughed as he kissed her jaw.

"I don't care," he said.

She stayed silent, soaking up his admiration. "That's okay, because we're not going to kiss tonight."

"Why not?"

"If we're drinking, we're not going to do anything. That's for sure."

He bit her skin and she inhaled sharply, which made him smile. "Why?"

"What do you mean?" she demanded. "Because we're drunk! We're not in our right minds. Drunk us might consent to something sober us would never do."

"Oh! You're completely right."

"Yeah, so if I'm drunk and you're not, don't let me touch you. And I'll do the same for you. And if we're both drunk, I'll tell somebody to watch us."

"I don't plan on drinking."

"I haven't decided yet. Oh fuck… your tongue."

He pressed his tongue to the crook of her neck near her ear.

"Wow," she whispered. "I can't believe how good you are at kissing. I honest to god would never in a million years have guessed. I thought I would have to teach you. But you're the one who should be teaching me."

"You're a great kisser," he murmured.

"You're more than great. You're bloody brilliant."

She could feel him smile against her neck as he dug his fingers into her lower back. She clutched him tighter and pressed her face into his hair. Her hands circled his back, giving him a slight massage on his hips.

"We're supposed to be eating breakfast," she said into his hair.

His hot breath etched her skin. "I'm not hungry."

He sucked on her skin, brushing his teeth against her as she smiled. She whispered in his ear, "I need to start planning that Newlywed Game."

He murmured in agreement as his tongue touched her neck.

"Bite me," she muttered.

Neville was obviously taken aback by her sudden change in topic, but after a moment to recover, his teeth sunk gently onto her skin.

"Harder," she whispered.

He bit her once more, but it was still not enough. She could tell he thought she was delicate.

"I'm going to need you to do it like this," she said.

She pinched the back of his neck and he jolted a bit at her painful pinch.

"Ow!" he said.

He did not stop his kissing, which she appreciated. "Bite me that hard."

At her command, he sunk his teeth into her skin and she, too, jumped. "Ow!"

"Sorry!" he said immediately after pulling away.

"No! I loved it."

He gave her an odd look, then wiped her neck off with his sleeve.

"Did you spit on me?" she smiled.

"Q-quite a bit, actually," he said as he removed his hand.

She laughed. "Well, it felt great."

He blushed. "That's all I want. To make you feel great."

Her mouth flipped into a loving pout. "You're so sweet."

"You are, too," he smiled. "It would be even sweeter if you finished your costume, or else I'm going to look like an idiot."

She examined his body. "So, you already have the costume on?"

It took him a minute to understand. "Ha ha," he played, but she could see the corners of his lips turned up.

"Okay, let's go back upstairs," she grinned. "I'm actually starving."

He nodded and took her hand. She glanced down as he attempted to pull her with him. He took two steps until he realize she was not moving. Instead, she stared at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You're getting less nervous around me, aren't you?" she smiled.

"I… Er… Yes. Why?"

"You've never pulled me along. I'm always making you follow me."

"I-I assumed you would get in front after a couple steps."

She smiled and two two giant steps forward. "You're right."

He gave her an odd look. "You're goofy."

"Hey!" she laughed. "I'm just surprised you grabbed me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like how I grab you."

"Maybe," he smiled, "because I'm realizing that you actually do fancy me, too."

"What, you didn't believe me?" she grinned.

He squeezed her hand and pecked her forehead. "Not for a second."


	31. Chapter 31: Halloween Horrors

**Lenore's POV**

Tracey Davis was not a complete bitch. Sure, she was part of Pansy's girl squad, and she was a blood purist, but if you stayed clear of controversial topics, she could be quite amiable.

However, Lenore and Odette had very little interest in ever talking to her. Right then, Tracey laid sprawled out on Pansy's bed, waiting for her friend to return from a "date" with Draco. Tracey had a nasty habit of nicking things and looking through people's personal belongings, so Lenore and Odette watched the brown-haired girl with the pinched nose carefully.

"Has anyone got any gossip?" Tracey asked to break the silence.

Lenore placed her makeup brush on her dresser. She was about to head out for Slughorn's Halloween party, but first she needed to gather her costume.

"I don't," Odette said.

"Me neither."

Tracey sat up, leaned over Pansy's nightstand and whispered, "You've heard about Blair's engagement then."

"Of course we heard!" Lenore laughed. "We're her roommates! She can't exactly hide that engagement ring from us."

Tracey rolled her eyes. "I can't believe Lux would actually marry her."

Odette exchange a look with Lenore from behind her textbook. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know," Tracey said quietly. "She's just so… loud."

"Loud?" Lenore raised her eyebrows.

"You know…" she waved her hand, as if ushering Lenore's brain to a conclusion.

"Noooo, I don't."

"Tracey," Odette hesitated, "are you referring to the fact that Blair is black?"

"No!" argued Tracey. "I'm not racist. I'm just saying… It's an unusual match. What do their families think?"

"It's an unusual match because Mallory is white?"

Tracey sighed. "No! I told you, I'm not racist! She's just so… outspoken."

"Have you ever talked to Blair in your life?" Lenore asked. "She's not either of those things."

"She is," she replied. "I can just tell."

Odette sucked in her cheeks. "Trace, if you're going to be racist, get away from us."

The girl looked mildly offended. "I told you, I'm not racist!"

"You are!" Odette hissed, hoping nobody else would hear their argument and start snooping. "You just don't like it because Mallory is white and Blair is black."

"I'm just saying, he could get a white woman if he wanted."

Lenore nearly screamed, but she clapped a hand over her mouth and a gasp came out instead. "What, like white women are the top prize?"

"No!" she said. "But Mallory is rich. He could have any girl."

Lenore could stop stop herself from shooting Tracey an angry glance. "He obviously wants Blair, so why do you have a problem with it?"

"Because she's racist," Odette answered.

"I told you, I'm not! And Odette, you're white, what do you care?"

The girl's mouth fell opened and she looked at Tracey like he was the stupidest human alive. "I am Cuban!" she shouted, no longer caring who heard their conversation. "I speak Spanish!"

Tracey's head visibly retreated as she crinkled his nose. "You're blonde."

Odette glanced at the ceiling, seemingly begging God to spare this fool. "Not all of us have dark hair! Everybody in my family has light hair. Look at my brother! He has light hair too!"

"Who's your brother?"

"Matt… short for Mateo Trujillo? He's a Hufflepuff, two years below me?"

Tracey shook her head. "Never heard of him. Are you sure you don't just dye it to seem white?"

Odette's head swung around to Lenore. "Did she really just say that to me?"

"She did."

She turned back to Tracey. "¡Idiota! ¿Cómo se atreve a decir que a mí? Yo espero que se diviertan en los Death Eaters como se puede encajar perfectamente, puta racista! "

"What did she say?" Tracey asked Lenore.

Lenore gave her a funny look. "If us white people are so superior, how can we both only understand one language?"

Tracey glared at Lenore with hot hatred. "I told you, I'm not racist."

"Trac, get out of my fucking sight," Odette pointed towards the door. "And don't you dare tell Blair or Mallory your racist comment. God, I can't believe you can be both a blood purist and a racist. Actually, I can."

Tracey rolled her eyes and stood from her place leaning over the nightstand. "Alright, bye. But you know all the other girls agree with me, except you two and maybe Circe."

As Tracey stomped back to her room, Lenore turned to Odette. "What the hell was that?"

Odette closed her textbook. "Do people seriously have a problem with them because of their race?"

"I guess so," Lenore gapped. "I don't understand how everyone is so hateful."

"Me neither," Odette sighed. "They have a great relationship."

Lenore nodded, then caught sight of the giant clock on the wall. "I've got to go! We can bitch about Tracey later!"

Odette grinned. "Sounds good to me."

Lenore hurried out of the Slytherin dungeons and towards the Gryffindor Tower to meet with Neville.

 **.**

 **Margaux's POV**

"I look really good," Jack Sloper commented as the pair passed a reflective window.

Margaux laughed. "You're an idiot."

"You look really good, too," he smiled. "Little miss Marilyn."

Margaux rolled her light green eyes. "Thanks. It's not too much?"

"No, you look great. You've even got the same figure as her."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. They pair were on their way to Slughorn's Halloween Party, which Margaux had helped organize. They had to arrive a little early to help set up. At six o'clock, the guests began to arrive. Blaise brought Pansy, and he could not look less happy about it. Both of them wore black capes and enchanted their teeth to point like a vampire. Romilda Vane had somehow convinced Cormac McLaggen to take her and they dressed up as jungle explorers. Flora and Hestia Carrow entered with a pair of male Slytherin twins, which was perhaps the most frightening thing Margaux had ever seen. They were all dressed as glam rock stars from the band Poison Potion. Marcus Belby and a Hufflepuff girl donned a king and queen outfit, very uncreative. Noticeably absent were Harry and Hermione, who must have had better things to do.

"Margaux!"

As soon as Margaux caught sight of her sister, she laughed loudly. "What is on your head?"

Lenore frowned as she touched a hand to her costume. "It's a pot of plants."

"I can see that," the younger sister laughed.

She examined Lenore's outfit. The girl wore a swinging long sleeve brown dress that cut off at mid-thigh, high heels, and a large cloth pot on her hair filled with cloth flowers in shades of orange, red, and pink. Her straight brown hair fell behind her shoulders.

"Why do you have a pot on your head?"

"Neville!" Lenore called.

The boy moved away from Luna and Melinda, but the two caught sight of Margaux and followed him over. As Neville came into view, Margaux noticed his long white lab coat buttoned over a white shirt, black pants, and a black and silver-striped tie. He wore thick glasses on his nose and his hair stuck up in every direction.

"Are you supposed to be Seamus after Potions class?" Margaux raised her eyebrows.

Lenore frowned. "No, you little prat, he's a scientist. And I'm a plant."

Margaux and Jack stared at them for a while. Finally, Jack asked, "What?"

"He's a herbologist. And I'm the plants he studies."

Margaux turned up her nose and began to laugh hysterically.

"What?" Lenore demanded.

"I can't believe you're doing this!" Margaux wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh my god! You! Walking around with a pot on your head because you let Neville pick the costume! Lenore, I'm dying, this is so funny."

Jack smiled with her, although he clearly did not understand.

"What's wrong with that?" Lenore asked.

"Just the fact that you let him pick!"

Lenore smacked her sister. "Whatever! I like it. I look cute and so does Neville. What the hell are you two supposed to be? A line from 'We Didn't Start the Fire?'"

She glanced down. "Ha, no. Well, I guess accidentally. But mostly Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio."

"Marilyn Monroe left Joe DiMaggio," Lenore pointed out.

Margaux took a swig of her punch. "Yeah and I'm about to leave Jack as soon as I find someone else to talk to."

"Hey!" the boy protested. "Don't leave me alone!"

She tapped on his chest. "Don't worry, you've got that ego of yours to keep you company."

"Luna's with Melinda," interrupted Lenore.

"No way!" Margaux glanced around as Lenore pointed.

Melinda Bobbin, who had just recently been invited to the Slug Club, brought Luna Lovegood, which surprised Margaux. She had no idea her best friend would be in attendance. They would have to talk later. Margaux spotted Luna and Melinda in the corner, both dressed as fairies.

"Yeah, are they together?"

"No," Margaux shook her head. "They're just friends. I didn't know Luna would be here!"

Lenore nodded. "Go find her. I'll keep Jack here company."

Margaux shook her head. "I'm not leaving you to scare him. C'mon, Jack."

She grabbed his hand and made her way over to Luna and Melinda.

 **.**

 **Dean's POV**

Dean took a deep breath as he entered Slughorn's expansive office. Roughly twenty people milled about and he immediately felt ridiculous. He donned blue overalls, a green long sleeve shirt, white gloves, and a green cap, complete with a fake mustache. He searched around for the Mario to match his Luigi, from the muggle video games, but he did not see her. _Ginny must be running late_ , he thought as he checked his watch. At once, he spotted her red hair from across the room.

But she did not look as he expected. She wore a blue pioneer dress and overdrawn red lipstick. She was clearly not dressed at the other Mario brother. Ginny met his eyes from across the crowd and examined his outfit. Dean could see her jaw clench as she angrily stomped over to him.

"Dean!" she screeched.

"Ginny!" Dean said. "We were supposed to go as Mario and Luigi!"

The girl shot him a disdainful look. "I didn't look cute as Mario. I don't understand it."

Dean groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I explained it to you a thousand times. You're the one who said you wanted it!"

"I was being sarcastic," she said. "You couldn't tell? I told you we were going as Moth-Eaten Paulie and Paulina!"

A low noise of confusion escaped Dean's throat. "I don't understand Moth-Eaten Paulie! He sounds like an enemy mafia got to him."

"I told you, it's like those dolls muggles have! Ratchety Amy."

Dean squinted his eyes. "Raggedy Ann?"

"Yeah, her. They've all got red hair like me!"

"Ginny, they look like serial killer clowns. And in case it's escaped your notice, I don't have red hair."

"That's what the wig was for."

"What wig? What are you talking about?"

"Did I not give you the wig?"

"No!"

Dean was incredibly frustrated now. The entire situation was ridiculous and he knew it, but this was indicative of their relationship. They both just did whatever they wanted until Dean finally caved to Ginny's will. But this time he would not.

"Well, I'm not changing," Ginny said as she folded her arms.

"Neither am I."

"Then we'll be Luigi and Moth-Eaten Paulina."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Dean tried his hardest not to laugh. Ginny was clearly pissed at him and would only get angrier if he started laughing, but something about their predicament was strangely hilarious.

"Why are you smiling?" her frown grew deeper. "You think this is funny?"

"It kind of is," he shrugged.

Ginny glared at him. "No, it's humiliating. All the other couples managed to agree on a costume, but we couldn't."

"We did!" Dean shouted. "You changed your mind after!"

"Because I didn't look cute!"

Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. "I'm going to get some punch."

"I'm coming with you."

"Ohhhh no you are not. I need some time alone."

Dean headed over to the punchbowl, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone. As he poured himself a cup from the ladle, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and he felt his eyes widen considerably. There behind him stood Margaux, clad in a beautiful white dress with her blonde hair pinned into curls. His eyes trailed her curvy body until he stopped himself and forced his gaze to her eyes.

"Blimey. Hi, Mar," he said as he blinked once.

She smiled. "Hi Dean. How are you?"

"I'm… alright. How are you?"

"I'm good. Are you here with Ginny?"

"Yep."

"Alright," she said. "I'm here with Jack."

The boy next to her gave Dean a warm smile and a nod. Dean snapped out of his trance. He had not even noticed anybody standing next to Margaux, that's how focused he was on her.

"Hi," Dean smiled to the boy. Jack was friendly enough. He did not hold anything against him. Except maybe that loss to the Hufflepuff team.

"How are ya, mate?" Jack asked.

"I've… been better," he shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Margaux asked.

Dean scowled. "I think you know who and you'll figure out why soon enough."

Margaux smiled sadly. "Sorry, Dean. How about we take your mind off her? Guess who we are!"

Dean examined her curve-hugging white dress and Jack's pinstrip baseball uniform. "Marilyn Monroe and… Jackie Robinson."

Jack's eyes flew to his outfit and Margaux began to laugh wildly. "He's Joe DiMaggio!"

"Oh," Dean blushed. "Fuck, sorry."

"It's okay, bruv," Jack laughed. "No harm, no foul."

"Why Joe DiMaggio?" Dean cringed. "Were they together?"

"Yeah, for a little while," Margaux said. "Until she broke his heart."

"Mmm," Dean said. What he really wanted to say was, " _Sounds like you,_ " but he refrained. That would have sounded backhanded and she would not have taken it as a joke. Instead, he took a sip of his punch.

"So, is Ginny dressed as Mario?" Jack asked.

"She…" Dean let out a low rumble and squinted down into his cup. "We had creative differences."

At that moment, Ginny sauntered up to Dean and weaved her arm into his. She had a positively insane glint in her eye, which was funny compared to her pioneer outfit.

"Hello Jack, hello Margaux," she cooed.

Jack and Margaux were silent for a moment, before they both burst into laughter. It was the best kind of laughter, straight from their toes and full of amusement. Margaux collapsed against Jack's arm, which caused Dean the tiniest bit of jealousy, but he recovered. He laughed along with them, abet less powerfully.

"Why are you laughing?" Ginny demanded.

"You two!" Margaux practically choked back sobs of mirth. "You weren't on the same page, were you?"

"They weren't even in the same book," Jack said as he wiped tears from his eyes, then continued guffawing.

"Come on, Dean!" Ginny stomped her foot and dragged him away. "I'm not talking to these two!"

Dean and Margaux shared a playful grin as Ginny spun him around.

"I hate them!" she squeaked. "How dare they laugh at us!"

"Are you still mad at Mar?" Dean asked.

"I'm furious. And don't you dare call her 'Mar.'"

Dean blinked in surprise, but stayed silent. He could not wait to get out of this stuffy party and head to Seamus's afterparty.

 **.**

 **Neville's POV**

Seamus surprisingly put a lot of effort into his Bootlegged Bootlickers party.

At 10 p.m., promptly after Slughorn's stuffy Halloween dinner ended, Neville and Lenore, Jack and Margaux, and Ginny and Dean made their way to the Room of Requirement for Seamus's shindig.

Neville's eyes widened as he entered the brilliantly decorated room. Everything was covered in grey stone and gold. Bat rested on the ceiling and cobwebs strewed the room. Roughly forty people milled about, drinking alcoholic cider and enjoying each other's lively company as the night began

"Welcome to the party, losers!" Seamus clapped his hands together.

Neville's eyes scanned Seamus's body. The boy wore horse hooves and no shirt.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" Margaux asked.

"A demon," said Lenore.

"I'm a centaur," Seamus scoffed.

Ginny twerked her nose in the air and pulled Dean away from the group. He followed her without a second glance as Seamus's face fell.

"Bloody tosser, leaving us again for her."

Margaux frowned as well. "I didn't want to see her anyway."

Jack smiled uncomfortably and said to Margaux, "Want me to get you some punch?"

"Sure," she smiled. "Are you drinking tonight?"

"Nah," he smiled. "I don't need alcohol to have a good time with you."

Lenore gagged as the two sauntered off and Neville smiled. "I do need alcohol to have a good time with you, where's the beer?"

She elbowed him lightly and laughed, "Seamus, this place looks great. You've put a lot of effort into this."

"Oh yeah, I'm being a great hostess."

Lenore scanned his face a moment. "Seamus, are you sober right now?"

"Hell yeah, I'm sober," he laughed. "I thought I'd try something new."

Neville and Lenore laughed as he said, "Just kidding, I need to stay sober to keep up with the ironic details."

"Ironic details?" questioned Neville.

"Didn't you all noticed this is a satire on Slughorn's bloody office?"

Neville glanced around the room. Now that Seamus mentioned it, the room was shaped exactly like Slughorn's office, with thick wood rafters, green mirrors, and a high ceiling.

"Damn," Lenore said. "And you've even decorated it like a Slug Club meeting, with the white table cloths and a chandelier."

"Take a damn look at the food, too."

They peeked over to the food table, where the weirdest foods possible where arranged in fancy silver serving platters and toothpicks.

"Seamus, this is so good!" Lenore gasped. "You really tried."

"Hell yeah," Seamus said. "It's the fucking nicest thing I've ever done."

"I love it!" she smiled. "Now, where are the drinks?"

Seamus led them over to the alcohol, but Lenore selected simple punch.

"Are you not drinking?" Neville asked.

"Nah," she said. "I'm not in the mood. Are you?"

"I… I thought about it, but if you aren't—"

"No!" she said. "If you want to drink, do it."

"Okay," he said. "I'll have a beer or two."

She handed him the bottle opener next to her and he cracked open his first pale ale. The drink stung his throat as it passed through his lips, but three beers later, there he was standing in a circle with Lenore, Leanne Kuang, and Terry Boot.

"Hey!" Lenore said at once. "Where did Alicia and Anthony go?"

The other three craned their necks in search of the pair, but they were nowhere to be seen. Finally, Neville pointed to a corner. "There."

Alicia sat on the couch with Anthony, her hand covering his as he looked completely stunned to even be near her. Lenore and Leanne instantly began screaming with glee as Terry laughed. "It's about damn time."

"You think he'll make a move?" demanded Leanne.

"He better," Terry said. "I told him to."

"She fancies him, you know," said Leanne.

"And he fancies her, obviously," added Lenore.

Terry nodded. "Merlin, they better get together or I'm going to slap him when we get back to the dorm."

"Eeee," Lenore squealed once more and she moved closer to Neville.

Neville could feel his surroundings spinning slightly and her noises did not help him stay focused.

"I'm going to get some more punch before this heats up!" Leanne said quickly.

"Me, too," Terry said as he followed her towards the drink table.

Lenore clutched his arm and he peered down at her. He was fairly tipsy now, but he was incredibly aware of his surroundings.

"Neville!" she shook him. "Look at them!"

Lenore hugged his bicep so tightly that he could feel his heartbeat in his hand. He tried to wriggle loose from her, but she still held strong, giddy with excitement.

"I see," he smiled. "Good for them."

"How long has Anthony fancied her?"

Neville shrugged. "Maybe a year?"

She placed her nose on his arm and squealed into his bicep, which made him laugh. "Look at you being a romantic."

"I'm not a romantic!" she argued. "I just love when tension builds and then finally something happens."

"Mmm," he smiled knowingly.

She laid her head on his arm and continued to watch Alicia and Anthony chatting away, Anthony looking at nervous as could be.

"Anthony looks like you," she said. "Like you before you admitted your feelings."

"I wonder if he will throw up, too?"

"Nah," she giggled at his joke. "Anthony doesn't get that nervous."

"You never know."

Lenore loosened her grasp on his arm and settled herself under his shoulder instead. She hugged him from the side, which surprised him. He glanced down at her and took in her beautiful face pressed against his ribs. He held his arm around her shoulders and tapped his cheek on the top of her head, which made her smile.

"Lenore!" Leanne practically screamed as she returned. "Are you seeing this?"

"Yes!" Lenore shouted in return. "God, I hope one of them finally makes a move."

The two girls squealed as Neville chuckled. Lenore's fingers clutched his shirt material and she gave a slight yank on his side. "You are mocking us."

"No!" he argued, but continued to laugh.

"Shove off," she giggled as she let go of him. "I need to talk to Leanne for a minute. Go find Seamus and Dean."

"Alright," Neville laughed. "I see Seamus. Dean is with Ginny."

"Then go talk to Seamus. Also, be careful how much you drink. You're on number four in the span of like an hour."

"I will," he promised.

She kissed his cheek, then turned to Leanne as Neville sauntered away towards Seamus and Terry.

 **.**

 **Dean's POV**

Dean had finally rid himself of Ginny for the night. He sat on a couch against the wall, staring blankly at the scene in front of him. True, it was only a brief few moments without Ginny, as she would return from the drink table soon, but he still took comfort in the silence surrounding his ears.

He watched Neville, Seamus, and Terry laughing in the corner, all of them seemingly having an enjoyable time. Ginny's pale legs curled over his as she sat down. She handed him a bottle of beer and said, "Hi Dean-y poo. I'm back."

"Hi Ginny," he said in a normal tone of voice.

She squinted at him. "Why the attitude?"

Dean gapped at her. "What attitude?"

"'Hi Ginny,'" she mocked his voice, with added disdain he knew was not originally present.

"Ginny, I didn't mean to be rude, if that's what you think."

"I don't think, I know."

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This girl had issues. She could twist his words like no other person he had ever met.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

Dean bit his cheek. "No, dear."

"You did!" she stomped her foot on this thigh, which caused him great pain. "You don't respect me."

"Ginny," he said as he rubbed his thigh, "what the hell are you on about? I'm treating you just fine."

"No! You treat me like shite because you don't respect me!"

"I treat you better than you treat me!"

"Well you don't even respect me enough to match costumes!"

"Ginny! You're the one who changed last minute!"

"You know what?" she snarled. "Fuck you, Dean. Go suck a fat cock."

Dean's breath caught in his chest. He stared at this girl with so much hatred and before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"Ginny…" he said slowly, "if you are going to treat me this way, then I think we should break up."

"No!" she screeched. "Dean, you cannot break up with me!"

"I-I could," he said weakly.

"No, Dean…" She scooted over the couch towards him and grabbed his thighs under her palms. "I love you."

He froze. She could not have said what he thought she said.

She continued, "You can't break up with me because I'm in love with you."

His mind spiraled out of control. He stared into Ginny's eyes. "You… love me?"

She nodded, but he could not read her facial expression.

"Like, really?"

Another nod, as she said coldly, "Why, do you not believe me?"

"I… I thought you fancied Harry," Dean said, still in utter shock.

"I fancy you now."

Dean's jaw hung open. He had no idea what to say. No idea at all. His mind shut down, his body went numb.

"Come on," she said, as she took his hand. "Come in the closet with me so I can suck you off."

"No, Ginny," he said quickly.

She cupped his crotch in her hand and he physically recoiled.

"Come on, Dean," she begged in his ear. "Let me taste you."

"Ginny! Oh god, please get away from me!"

Her fingers dug into jeans as she attempted to slip a hand under his belt.

"No!" he finally shouted.

He kneed her hands away from him and stood from the couch, practically running towards Seamus and Neville. Terry was absent at this point, talking to Leanne and Lenore in a separate adjacent circle.

Dean lost Ginny in the crowd as he shouted for Neville and Seamus. His mind was panicking. He did not care that the three were not on good terms right now. He just needed his mates at the moment. Dean hitched his elbows to his two best mates and dragged them out into the hallway with little to no resistance.

"What's the matter?" Neville asked.

"Ginny," Dean exhaled. "Holy hell, Ginny is insane."

"What happened?" asked Seamus.

"She fucking assaulted me," Dean wailed.

"What?" Seamus gasped.

"She grabbed my bloody cock and started talking dirty and lads… she told me that she loves me."

Neville sat dumbstruck for a moment, as Seamus said, "So? You're dating?"

Dean decided to come clean. "Seamus, we were never actually dating. It started to make Margaux and Harry jealous. I was trying to move on from Margaux. Then I realized that wouldn't work, but it was too late. I never fancied Ginny and she never fancied me."

"This entire time?"

"Yeah," Dean nearly whispered. "Never. But now she says she loves me."

Neville and Seamus were quiet as they stared at Dean.

"What did you say when she said it?"

Dean groaned and placed his face in his hands. "I said I couldn't talk about it right now and I ran away."

"Dean!" Neville gasped.

"I know!" he wailed. "I feel bad."

"Wait," Seamus said, "what prompted her to say it?"

"I was…" Dean shook his head. "I basically suggested we should break up. And she wasn't too happy about that."

"Wait, was she angry when she said it?" asked Neville.

Dean nodded. "She was livid."

"So," said Seamus, "do you… do you think she meant it or do you think she just wanted to stop you from breaking up with her?"

Dean's jaw dropped. "I didn't think about it like that."

Seamus nodded. "She could be manipulating you, like she always does."

Neville agreed quietly, then asked, "Why do you stay with her?"

"I… I like snogging her."

That was not a lie, but it sure was not the complete truth.

Neville nodded. "That's not healthy."

"No," he sighed. "It's not."

"Do you do anything sexual with Ginny?" Seamus asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, mate. She stuck her hand down my pants one time and grabbed it but I told her I wasn't ready for that."

"No way!" Seamus said. "You didn't tell me that!"

"Well, I couldn't," Dean said as he took another gulp of beer. "Seeing as you're never around anymore."

A look of fear spread across Neville's face. Dean knew he should not have said that. He did not mean to pick a fight with Seamus, but his words kept spilling out before he could stop himself.

Seamus crossed his arms. "What do you mean?"

"Is that the only time you've ever gotten to third base?" Neville tried to return to the previous subject.

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Thomas," Seamus said. "Go back to what you were saying. I'm not around, am I?"

"No, not since you've practically been sewn to Terry's hip."

Neville glanced around nervously and searched his intoxicated mind. "I've never been touched down there either. Seamus has, I think. Right?"

Seamus ignored the boy. "What do you mean?"

Dean sat up straighter. "I mean you've abandoned us for that tosser."

"I've abandoned you!?" Seamus yelled. "What about you? Off snogging that complete cunt! Ginny abuses you, Dean! You think I want to be around that?"

"This started before Ginny!"

"But it got worse after Ginny!"

"The party's really great," Neville interjected. "I love the atmosphere."

"And you!" Seamus turned his anger on Neville. "You left me, too! You're always leaving me for Lenore. She's not as into you as you are into her, so you need to calm down or she'll break your heart."

Neville's lips parted.

"Lenore fancies him!" Dean argued. "You would know if you actually spent any time around them! It's you, Seamus! You're the problem! You make plans with Terry before we even get the chance to invite you anywhere!"

"Does… does Lenore not fancy me?" he breathed.

"Now look what you've done!" Dean shouted. "You're going to give him a complex!"

"Oh Merlin," Neville buried his face in his palms. "You're right. She doesn't fancy me as much as I think she does."

"No, Neville," Dean patted his shoulder. "It's fine. She fancies you."

"Not as much as I fancy her," he sighed.

"Please don't worry," Dean prodded him. "Thanks a fucking lot, Seamus! Neville, Lenore fancies you. I saw her tonight, holding your arm. She fancies you and you know it."

"I know," he whispered.

Seamus crossed his arms. "I want to know why you think I haven't been around. I'm here for you two all the time!"

"No, you're not!" Dean yelled. "Seamus, we've been best mates for almost six years. We tell each other everything. And now sometimes we go multiple days without saying a word to each other. You've replaced me with Terry."

"I haven't replaced you!" he shouted. "I just have different interests that I share with Terry!"

"That main interest being getting high all the time!"

"What, I'm not allowed to experiment?"

"No!" Dean said. "Seamus, I don't even know who you are anymore!"

The door to the Room of Requirement opened and out popped two people.

Margaux slung her arms around Jack's neck, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as she giggled in his ear. In one hand, she held tray of small finger sandwiches, which she fed to Jack with another hand. He clutched her calves under his elbows and a giant bag of cheese puffs between his fingers.

Dean's stomach clenched.

"Hi Dean," she smiled at him.

Jack halted in front of the three boys and gave a friendly hello.

"Where are you off to?" Seamus grinned.

"Somewhere a little more private," Margaux said.

Seamus raised his brow. "The coat closet is free."

Margaux scowled. "Ha ha. And actually, Alicia and Anthony are in there."

"No way!" Seamus shouted. "Are they really?"

Margaux jolted as Jack hiked her higher up on his waist. "I saw them. Anthony looked about as nervous as Neville does all the time."

Neville's face flushed as he peered down into his brown beer bottle.

"Lenore's currently with Leanne and Terry about screaming their heads off."

"Alright!" Seamus pumped his fist. "Anthony's been after her a while."

"I know!" Margaux said. "Hey, Dean, I meant to say, Ginny's looking for you."

Dean shook his head quickly. "No! I don't want to talk to her."

Margaux frowned. "Okay. Well, she sounded pretty urgent."

"I know," he sighed.

Margaux watched him an extra moment. He could feel her soft eyes beat into his conscious. She still stared at him as she whispered something into Jack's ear.

"Alright, lads," Jack said, "we'll talk to you later! You lot have a great night!"

They all gave short, upwards nods towards Jack, who flashed them all a brilliant grin as he toddled away with Margaux on his back. Dean watched as she buried her face in the crook of Jack's neck and he could feel his eyes grow hot.

He could not be crying. This could not be happening. No. He closed his eyes a moment and leaned his head against the wall. Everything hit him at once, like the human soul inside of him collapsed. Nothing was right. Margaux was snogging Jack. Seamus hated him. Ginny loved him. Dean's eyes flashed with heat as he sucked his emotions back into his subconscious.

"Mate, are you alright?" Neville asked gently.

Dean furrowed his brow, but kept his eyes closed. His eyes stung with wetness, but he would not allow himself to cry. "How would you feel if you saw Lenore readily snogging another bloke?"

Neville was quiet, as was Seamus.

Finally, he said, "I… it… it would about kill me, honestly."

Dean sucked in his cheeks. "That's how it feels."

Neville scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Dean, who kept his eyes closed. A sniff gave him away, though and he knew Neville was staring at him.

"Mate, I… I know it hurts. I know you love her."

Seamus gasped. "You love Margaux?"

Dean nodded.

"Like… you love her, love her?"

Dean gritted his teeth. "You would know if you had been around."

Neville's fingers dug into his shoulder, a sign that begged him to stop. Dean wiped his eyes and opened them. He had stopped crying, but he still felt every twinge of agony as the previous few minutes.

Seamus did not look angry, as Dean had expected. Instead, the boy scooted closer to him and placed an arm around him from the other side. Neville sat on Dean's right and Seamus on his left, holding him with care.

"I'm sorry, mate," Seamus finally said.

Neville laid his head on Dean's shoulder. He was clearly drunk, although he spoke well. "I'm sorry, too."

"It's alright," Dean said. "I just wish… I wish I wasn't with Ginny."

"Break up with her," Neville said.

Dean stared down at his hands. "I… I don't want to hurt her. What if she actually loves me?"

"Dean," Seamus laughed. "She's obviously hurting you."

"Yeah, but I can handle it. I don't want her to be mad at me."

"You're scared of her," Neville offered.

"And you're scared of Lenore," Dean snapped.

Neville's arm froze mid-beer sip. "If Lenore was hurting me, I would be able to break up with her."

Seamus nodded. "He would."

Dean frowned and bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Neville. I didn't mean that."

Neville tapped his head on Dean's shoulder. "It's alright. I know."

Dean sighed once more and crossed his arms over his chest. "You two are the best mates I could ask for and I'm sorry I've treated you so bad lately."

"It's okay," Seamus said. "I haven't been acting right either."

Neville agreed, "I haven't spent enough time with you all. I miss you both."

Dean felt like crying once more. "I miss you both, too."

Seamus nodded. "Me, too. We need to be friends again."

Neville picked his head up and took a swig of beer. Dean grabbed the bottle out of his hand. "You need to stop with this. How many have you had?"

"Uhhh… this is six."

"Neville," Dean sighed. "That's too much."

"I normally drink ten," Seamus said. "And I'm smaller than him. He's fine."

"You're used to it. He's not. Why are you drinking so much?"

Neville shrugged. "I don't know. I just wanted to see how it felt."

"You're not drinking for another reason?" asked Dean.

The boy shook his mess of light brown hair. "No."

"Nothing with Lenore? Or with us?"

Neville's head waved from side to side. "I'm not sure."

"Which one is it?"

"You two. You're stressing me out."

Seamus blinked. "Why?"

"You need to be friends again. We all need to be friends again. Things are weird between us. And it's all because of girls. And Terry."

Seamus laughed slightly, as did Dean. "It is a bit like I'm dating Terry, isn't it?"

Neville nodded. "Sorry, Seamus."

"Nah, mate, you're all good. I'll make time for you all. But you have to do the same for us."

"He's not the problem," said Dean. "He's only with Lenore maybe two or three days a week. You're with Terry five or six days. At least you could cut back to the same two or three days."

"You're with Ginny as least as much as I'm with Terry," Seamus scowled.

"I know…" whispered Dean. "I'm going to stop that. I want to be more like Neville and Lenore."

Neville raised his beer and Dean whirled around to him. "Longbottom! I took that away from you!"

Neville drowned his mouth with the rest of the bottle before Dean could snatch it from his hand. "You're going to be so sick tomorrow."

"I know," he said. "But I don't care. I feel good now."

"You're stealing goodness from tomorrow."

"Yeah, true."

Seamus eyed Neville. "So… how are things going with Lenore?"

"She's perfect," he sighed.

"Have you told her you love her?"

"I don't love her," he shook his head. "I mean, I… kind of do, but she doesn't want me to say it. I think love means more to her than to me."

"Explain," Dean said as he met Neville's eye.

"I think… I think she reserves her love. I think she thinks she has a limited amount to give, so she doesn't give it away often. But I love everyone. I love her. I love you two. I love Gran. I love Professor Sprout. I love the host of that herbology radio programme. I love everyone."

"I think you have different definitions of love."

Neville nodded. "For sure."

"I think she thinks love is a state of being, not an emotion, and I completely agree," Seamus said. "I've never loved anyone."

Dean agreed. "I think I'm more like Lenore, too. Margaux is like you though, Neville."

"You think so?" he slurred.

Dean and Seamus nodded. "She loves everyone," Dean said. "Margaux is like that. Who else is like that?"

"Anthony," Seamus said. "And Alicia is a Lenore."

"Ginny is a Neville. Dean is a Lenore."

"Terry is a Neville. When he dated Fay, she was a Lenore," Seamus said. "I think you have to have one of each for the relationship to work. And that's why I don't think Margaux and Jack will work out."

Dean's lips parted. "Why?"

"They're both Nevilles. It won't work. You can tell they're just wanting to hook up."

Dean's mind spun. "You really think so?"

"I know so," said Seamus.

"I agree," Neville said. "They aren't into each other like that, Dean. I don't think you need to worry about Jack."

Dean sat frozen for a moment, until he let out a quiet laugh. Finally, he allowed himself to laugh harder. He was incredibly relieved. Seamus began laughing with him and slowly, so did Neville.

"Thank god," Dean whispered.

"Break up with Ginny," said Seamus. "And go after Margaux. She cares about you, Dean. I don't think she fancies you, but she could one day. Trust me."

Neville nodded. "She could one day."

"And if she doesn't, at least you won't have to live with this worry anymore," added Seamus. "Tell her how you feel."

Dean nodded. "I will soon."

"Okay," Seamus smiled. "Do it before Christmas break. That will be your goal."

"Alright," he said. "Except we definitely set that same goal for Neville last year and it took him another eight months to tell her."

Neville flushed red.

"You're not Neville and Margaux is not Lenore. Lenore is cold and honestly sometimes rude. No offense, Neville."

Neville started to open his mouth, but Seamus cut him off. "Margaux is more accepting of people's feelings. If Neville had admitted his feelings too early, Lenore would have gotten scared and cut him off. Margaux wouldn't do that. If anything, she would just slowly slip you back into the friendzone and you wouldn't even know it. I'm not wrong, am I, Longbottom?"

Neville hesitated, then shook his head. "You're not wrong."

"She won't hurt you, Dean, I can almost promise. She's too nice."

"Lenore is nice," Neville interjected.

"It's a difference type of nice," Seamus said. "Margaux is outgoing. Lenore sits back and waits for people to be nice to her first, then she's perfectly nice. Margaux is always herself. Lenore adjusts her personality based on who she's with."

Neville tilted his head. "You're right. But there's nothing wrong with that."

"Do you think she's the real her with you?"

Neville's mouth dropped open. "I… I never thought about that."

"Seamus," Dean scolded, "don't plant any more doubt in his head. Neville, of course Lenore is herself around you. You are one of the few people she is completely herself around."

Neville nodded. "Okay. I think so, too."

"Don't worry about it," Seamus said. "It's a Slytherin thing. They all do that. It works for her. You saw her schmoozing up to Slughorn one moment and then being cold to Blaise the next."

Out of nowhere, Neville said, "You know her and Blaise got to second base?"

Dean cringed. "Ew."

Neville shrugged. "I don't mind. But it was a little odd sitting across the table from him and knowing we've both touched her breasts."

"YOU'VE TOUCHED HER TITS?" Seamus practically shouted.

Neville appeared undisturbed as he reached for his empty beer bottle. "Yeah."

Dean laughed and said, "Congrats, mate."

"Shut up," Seamus interrupted Dean as she attempted to get the full story. "Over the bra?"

"No." Neville still stared blankly at the floor. "Like, her bare skin."

Dean laughed even louder as Seamus's jaw dropped. "You're fuckin' with me."

"No," he shook his head. "You can ask her. No, wait, don't ask her."

"Why didn't you tell us the second after it happened?" Seamus said as he gave Neville a hearty pat on the back.

"It just happened last night."

"Holy fuck," Dean laughed. "That's why you were so late back last night."

Neville could not be more nonchalant. His finger circled the rim of his beer bottle and he stared down into the brown glass. "Yeah."

Seamus's pointed to Neville's circling fingers. "Is that how you touched her nipples?"

Neville whipped his hand away from the bottle and blushed. "No!"

Dean and Seamus laughed wildly as he grew even redder. "I mean… Actually, kind of."

"How was it? Does she have nice tits?"

"They're so soft," he exhaled. "Like… I can't even explain it. Her skin is just so soft."

"She doesn't have big tits," Seamus said.

"That's rude!" Dean elbowed him.

Neville nodded. "I love them, so shut up."

"Margaux has big tits," offered Seamus.

Dean's cheeks grew hot. "Don't start this."

"She's got great tits, actually."

Neville crinkled his nose in discomfort and Dean smacked Seamus's chest. "Shut up! Don't talk about her like that."

Seamus sat up on his knees. "Who do you think has the best pair of tits in the school?"

"Lenore," said Neville.

Seamus rolled his eyes as Dean laughed at Neville's sweetness. He turned to Seamus and said, "Margaux."

Another roll of the eyes. "It's obviously Lavender Brown."

Dean and Neville were quiet. They both shrugged at the same time.

"HA!" Seamus laughed wildly. "You both agree."

"Tits are tits," Dean said. "Honestly, it's who they're attached to."

Neville nodded. "I agree completely."

"Well, Lavender's tits are above par."

"Seamus," Dean sighed, "it's bad to be above par in golf."

Seamus crossed his arms. "Well it wouldn't be bad if they were above me."

"They are above you," slurred Neville. "She's taller than you."

Dean nearly screamed with laughter as Seamus punched Neville's arm. "We're the same height!"

"That's doesn't help your case, mate!" Dean shouted.

Seamus scowled and sucked in his lips. After a moment, he said, "Katie's got good tits, too."

"You just like them because you like her," Dean said. "I'm telling you, it's who they are attached to."

Seamus nodded silently.

"Do you miss her?" Neville asked.

Another short nod. "I do."

Dean patted his shoulder. "She'll be better soon."

"I know," he said quietly.

 **.**

 **Margaux's POV**

"Did you notice something off with Dean?"

Jack plopped a cheese puff into his mouth and turned to Margaux. "Kind of. Why?"

She stared up into the night sky and shrugged. "I don't know. He just seemed really off."

"Probably something with Ginny," offered Jack.

She nodded. "Probably."

Jack reached into the plastic bag once more. "Want a cheese curl?"

Margaux opened her mouth and Jack placed the puff on her tongue. As she chomped down, Jack said, "You should probably talk to him."

"I think so, too."

The pair was silent for a while, staring up at the night sky on top of the Astronomy Tower. A cold October breeze flew over their horizontal bodies, but Margaux's warming charm kept their temperature well-regulated.

"You like Astronomy, don't you?" asked Jack.

Margaux nodded. "Yeah. Love it."

Jack searched around. He gestured his head towards the sky. "Tell me about that weird star over there."

Margaux squinted. "I mean, I could tell you about it, if I didn't fail that Astronomy quiz last week."

"What did you make?"

"An Acceptable."

"Mar," he laughed. "You didn't fail. You just didn't do great."

"That's failing," she pointed out. "For me."

Jack smiled. "I guess I failed, too, then, because I also made an A. Okay, Little Miss Failure, tell me what that is," he pointed towards the night sky.

"Jack, I can't tell what you're pointing at."

He pointed again. "That."

She laughed. "I'm just going to pick something. See that kind of rhombus over there?"

Jack shook his head. Laying a hand on each cheek, she tilted his head in the correct direction. "That's a lion. You can kind of see the body, it's the rhombus, then he's got legs and a head."

Jack squinted. "I think I see it. Or I'm imagining it."

"It's okay," she said. "I can't really see any of these constellations either. I just memorized where they are. But what you're looking at, hopefully, is Leo the lion."

"That's my astrology sign!"

"No way," she examined him. "Actually… I believe it."

Jack blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Do you know the traits of a Leo?"

"No."

"Domineering. Egotistical—"

"Hey!"

She giggled. "Vain. Arrogant."

"I'm not a prat!" he laughed. "Jesus, you'd think you're describing Malfoy."

"Malfoy is a Virgo if I ever saw one."

Jack squinted, but still smiled. "What's your star sign?"

Margaux scanned the sky. She reach over and tilted his head the other direction. "Mine is hard to see. It looks like a 'J' with petals on the top. See all those really bright stars? That's the body of the scorpion."

"You get a scorpion? That's so much better than a lion."

"My story is better, too," she grinned. "Leo was strangled to death by Hercules, who skinned him with his own tooth and made a coat out of his pelt. Scorpius killed Orion, the huntsman over there. That is one of the few constellations I can see really well. His belt is a really bright line, and then you can see his bow and arrow raised in the air."

"I can see Orion pretty easily," Jack interrupted her. "Why didn't we learn about this stuff in Astronomy? I would have liked this better than memorizing Jupiter's moons."

"Oh definitely, the Greek stories are much more interesting. And astrology is so much cooler than astronomy."

"What's the difference?"

"Astrology is a theory that the star sign you're born under determines your personality. I think mine is pretty accurate, but some people, I don't believe it."

"What does yours mean?"

"I'm a Scorpio, so that means ambitious, loving, self-assured. And on the bad side, there's impatience and cynicism."

"Honestly," Jack said, "I don't think that sounds like you. I mean, a little, but…"

She nodded. "Lenore and I are both Scorpios. She's the textbook definition of a Scorpio. I'm slightly less. I always relate more to Libra."

"What do they do?"

"Libras are diplomatic, caring, concerned for justice. Indecisive. Emotional. They carry a grudge and love self-pity."

"And you think you're all that?"

"For sure."

Jack shrugged. "I think you think you're crazier than you actually are."

"What?" she laughed.

"All those qualities are kind of shitty. I couldn't stand to be around someone that down all the time. You're optimistic."

"I mean, yeah," she said. "But you haven't seen me go crazy yet."

"The pretty ones are always crazy."

Margaux squinted. "If you're trying to call me pretty, don't do it by insulting women."

Jack smiled. "I'm sorry. You're completely right."

"Damn right I am."

Margaux crossed her arms and Jack laughed. "I'm sorry, Mar. You know I didn't mean to be rude."

"I know," she finally relented. "I forgive you."

He smiled. "Thank you. What were my qualities?"

"Egotistical. Vain. Dominating."

Jack thought a moment. "Okay, roast me."

"What?" she laughed.

"Roast me. There's plenty to work with there."

"Too easy," she waved her hand. "You've got to set me up."

"Okay… You know it took me two hours to get ready for this party tonight?"

She squealed. "What the hell were you doing?"

"I don't even know. I just like to make sure I look perfect."

She laughed wildly at him. "You do look good, though."

"Oh really?" He raised his brow.

"I'm just saying…" she smiled. "You can dominate me anytime, Leo."

Jack's mouth dropped open as Margaux laughed even harder.

"Merlin H. Wizard, Mar!" he laughed with her. "You're more forward than I thought."

"You're less annoying than I thought."

"Well, thanks," he smiled. "I think."

Margaux turned to face him. She stared into his brown eyes and said after a moment, "Jack… do you think it's possible for us to snog and not get attached?"

"I think if we both go in with the right attitude."

"Me, too," she said. "Want to try?"

"Alright," he chuckled. "But if you start falling in love with me, you've got to pull away, okay?"

"Sure," she rolled her eyes. "And you do the same for me."

"I will," he smiled. "So how about you come over here and we'll snog each other to ignore our actual relationship woes?"

"Sounds great."

Margaux sat up on her elbow and leaned in the kiss Jack. He wound his fingers through her short blonde locks. She felt him smile against her lips, which absolutely tore her insides apart with excitement. She did not fancy Jack and she knew she never would, so this was thrilling. She had kissed plenty of boys that she did not fancy, but never one who did not fancy her. That is, except Dean. But his kiss did not really count.

Every boy Margaux had kissed, minus Dean, had been obsessed with her. It was nice to kiss someone and know he felt the same impartialness towards her as she felt with him. She could kiss him as much as she wanted and it would not send the wrong message. This was thrilling.

She closed the gap between their bodies and deepened the kiss. At first, the kiss had been soft and playful, full of warmth, but it soon became intense and heated. She was glad they were in a secluded spot, or this display of affection would turn a few heads. Her hands traced his jaw, his fingers intertwined in her hair.

Barely breaking contact, she swung a knee over his horizontal body and kneeled over him as her tongue lightly flicked his. Jack had to open his eyes to make sure this was real. Margaux hovered over him, touching her body against his every so often. "Damn, Mar," he laughed.

"What?" She leaned away slightly.

His smile grew under her fingertips. "You're quite brave, aren't you?"

"I am a Gryffindor," she said playfully.

She closed the minuscule gap between their lips. Jack muttered between kisses, "I can tell."

He brought his hands up to grip her waist, steadying her body on his and pulling her closer to him. She deepened the kiss, her lips ravenous and excited, as he made a barely audible noise of delight against her mouth. He bit her bottom lip, his teeth softly etching her skin as he sent shudders through her body. She pushed his hair away from his forehead and let her fingers rest on his head.

She pulled away to whisper on his full lips, "Yeah, I definitely won't be falling in love with you."

"Why?" he laughed.

"Because you taste like fuckin' cheese puffs."

His cheeks grew hot under her palms. "Shit, sorry."

"No," she giggled. "It's fine. I don't mind."

Still, he reached for his wand and uttered a cleaning spell into his mouth. Margaux opened her mouth and directed him to do the same. They pair leaned in for another kiss and Margaux laughed. "That's much better."

 **.**

 **Lenore's POV**

Back in the Room of Requirement, Lenore stood in a corner, anxiously awaiting Alicia and Anthony's closet exit.

Terry took a swig of his punch. "They've been in there a while."

Lenore nodded. "She has either scared him so bad that he fainted or she's getting the best snog of her life."

"I hope it's the second one," said Leanne Kuang. "Although, the first one would make a great story."

Lenore rubbed her palms together in excitement. "I'm so thrilled!"

As Terry said something, Lenore caught sight of Seamus out of the corner of her eyes. He reached for a napkin from the food table, and grew incredibly frustrated when ten napkins fell off the stack. He pushed the pile over and started sauntering back outside.

"I'll be back!" Lenore called to Leanne and Terry.

She chased Seamus until they were at the doorway, then she placed a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around and smiled faintly. "Hi, Lenore."

"Hey," she squeezed his shoulder, "why do you look so pissed off?"

Seamus shook his head. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing," Lenore folded her arms.

Seamus sighed. "I'm just… I'm having a rough time lately."

"Why?"

He hesitated, staring down at his hand. "Lenore, can I talk to you? About Katie?"

Lenore's heart fell. "Yeah. For sure."

"Have you heard any news?"

Lenore nodded. "Katie's mum wrote me two days ago. She's improving quickly. She can sit up by herself now and use her hands and feet, but her limbs still don't work on their own."

Seamus furrowed his brow. "Does she… Is she in pain?"

Lenore shook her head. "Her mum said they keep her on medicine. The doctor's say she is not in pain, it's just frustrating for her."

"How's her mind?"

"She's groggy all the time, from the medicine. But she's expected to be fully recovered once they start weaning her off the medicine. Probably in a month's time, she'll be talking and thinking like normal again."

"So when's she coming back to Hogwarts?"

Lenore bit her lip. "The next term. In January."

Seamus exhaled in relief. "So she'll be fine by then?"

"She'll probably be tired and sore, but other than that, she should be back to normal. She'll probably have a form of PTSD, though."

He frowned. "Is there anything I can do for her?"

Lenore shook her head, but she stopped. "Write her a letter. I'll mail it with the ones Alicia and I send her."

"Can she read?"

"She can, but she can't focus for long. Her mum reads them to her."

Seamus stared at the floor. "I'll write her a letter, then. I miss her."

"I miss her, too," whispered Lenore. "So much."

Seamus nodded, still looking as anguished as the previous few moments. "Anyway, Lenore, you should probably come check on Neville outside. He's pretty drunk."

Lenore was visibly surprised at his sudden change in subject, but still said, "Okay, yeah. Is he okay?"

"Just goofy."

Seamus led her out into the hall and she saw Neville's body slumped against the wall. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder.

"Hi, Nev," she grinned. "How are you?"

He looked up at her and a huge smile appeared on his face. "I'm good."

Lenore glanced between Dean and Seamus. "How are you two? Still sober?"

They both nodded as Neville laid his head on her shoulder. Lenore glanced down at him. "Neville, how much have you had to drink?"

"Seven or eight."

"You told me six!" Dean shouted.

He laughed. "I had another when I went to the loo."

"You prat!" Dean punched him.

"Neville," she held his shoulders and pulled his face away from her body, "you are going to feel like shit tomorrow."

"I know," he said. "I didn't mean to drink this much."

She ran her hands over his face to move his hair out of his eyebrows. "You need to come back inside and drink some water."

He nodded. "Probably."

"Can you stand up?"

He got up on his knees and she helped him upright. He slung his arm over her shoulder and said, "I'm not that drunk, honestly."

"You are," she laughed as she pulled him towards the party entrance.

"Noooo," he announced. "I feel fine."

"I'm sure you think you feel great," she smiled.

"I know I feel great."

She laughed and shook her head. "How was your night?"

"I had a great night," he said, before tripping on his own two feet and stumbling a little. "What about you?"

"I had a lot of fun."

"With me?"

"Yes," she laughed. "With you and with my friends."

He gave her a wide grin. "I'm so glad. I had fun with my friends, too."

"How are things between you three now?"

"We talked it out," he said. "It's all good now."

"You talked it out?"

"Yeah," he stood up straighter, "we all agreed Lavender Brown has great tits."

Lenore's mouth dropped open. She stopped walking and looked at him. "What?"

He smirked. "Seamus asked who had the best tits in the school. I said you."

Lenore frowned. "Okay. Well, thanks."

"But they both said Lavender. But I like yours more."

"Don't talk about my boobs," she said quietly.

He watched her a moment, blinking heavily, then said, "I'm sorry, Len."

She nodded, but still felt vaguely violated. "I'm just honestly asking you, Neville. Please don't talk about my body. I know you're drunk, but… just please. The only person I want to know about my body is you."

He nodded immediately. "I'm really sorry, Len."

She squeezed his side. "It's okay. I mean… I don't mind if you talk about me, but I don't like being compared to other girls."

He nodded. "I wouldn't want to be compared to other blokes."

She smiled. "Thank you."

He squeezed her hand. "I'll make it up to you. I'll do something so nice for you, you won't even believe it."

"Okay," she laughed. "Thank you. And I'm not saying you can't talk about other girls. I'm just saying don't tell people details about my body."

He nodded. "I understand."

"Because Lavender really does have great tits."

He leaned into her ear and whispered, "Yours are great."

"Thanks," she laughed. "Anyway, let's change the subject. I'm not upset. I was just uncomfortable."

"I get it," he said. "And I agree with you."

"Thank you," she smiled. "You're not going to remember any of this conversation tomorrow, are you?"

"No," he sighed, "I'm pretty scared I'm going to remember it all."

She laughed and hugged his arm.

He smiled brightly as he examined her face. "You're so pretty, Lenore."

"Thanks," she bit her cheek. "You're definitely drunk."

"Drunk on you."

She laughed loudly. "You need to sober up a little before you go to bed. Have you had enough water?"

"Water?"

"So you won't be dehydrated and get a hangover."

"Oh, waterrrr," he said. "Yeah, yeah, that stuff. No."

Lenore watched his body slightly swaying. "Let me conjure you some."

She snatched a cup off the party table, conjured water into the glass, and handled it to him. He drank the entire thing in one gulp.

"Damn," she said. "Do you need more?"

"Yeah."

Another cup down and he handed the glass back to her. She didn't know what to do with it, so she placed it back in the table.

He blinked once, until his eyes focused on her face. "I swear, you're the prettiest person I've ever seen."

"Nev," she grinned, "you're a lovey-dovey drunk, aren't you?"

"What does that mean?"

She waved her hand. "Doesn't matter. It's cute."

"I'm cute?" he raised his brow.

"Yeah."

He nodded. "I am."

"You're cute?" she laughed.

"I'm okay."

"You are more than okay," she giggled even harder.

"I'm cute."

"You are."

Lenore was struggling to contain her giggles, as was Neville. "You need to get some rest," she told him.

"You need to rest, too," he pointed at her. "A rest from being so pretty."

"I'm going to duct tape your mouth if you don't quit," she smiled.

He nodded hazily, then pretended to zip his mouth closed. "Okay. I'll be quiet."

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, before turning back to Lenore. "I want you to put your tongue in my ear."

"WHAT?" she laughed loudly.

He giggled just as hard as her. "I don't know. I'm just talking."

"You said you were going to be quiet."

He shrugged. "I do that normally, why should I have to do it when I'm drunk, too?"

"Alright," she smiled. "Then talk to me."

"I don't actually want your tongue in my ear," he seemed to ponder the notion. "But maybe. No. Maybe. No. That probably wouldn't be pleasant. You're so pretty. How's your day going?"

"My day? It's going good. How's yours?"

"Better now that I'm drunk. Are you drunk?"

"I'm completely sober," she shook her head.

A tsk-ing noise escaped his lips. "You're missing out."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I want your tongue in my ear."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she giggled.

"Mostly everything," he smiled back.

"You're funny."

He smiled. "Can I touch your face?"

She cringed in amusement. "Sure."

He placed her jaw in his two hands and seemed to be examining her skin.

"Don't kiss me, though," she said. "You're drunk. There will be no kissing when either or both of us is drunk."

"That's fine," he said. "I'm just looking."

He stared into her eyes for quite some time, until she said, "I can smell all the alcohol on your breath."

Neville closed his slightly parted lips. "It tasted terrible."

"The alcohol?"

"Awful stuff, really."

She smiled. "It really is."

"You are so beautiful, Lenny," he sighed.

"Lenny?" she questioned his use of the nickname. She had never heard him call her that before.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Do you want a cat?"

"What?" she laughed again.

"This Hufflepuff girl asked me today if I knew anyone who would take her cat. Do you want it?"

"No. You are so drunk. Go back to 'Lenny.'"

"That's your name isn't it?"

"That's never been my name to you before."

"In my head it has."

She bit her cheek. "What else do you call me in your head?"

"Len. Lenny. Beautiful. Smart. A queen. I'm going to throw up."

It took Lenore a moment to realize that was not one of his nicknames for her. He turned white and Lenore accio'ed a bin over as quickly as she could. Neville coughed a few times, then spit into the bin.

"Guess not."

"You're silly," she giggled. "Leave it near you just in case."

"Remember last time I threw up around you?"

"Before our first kiss?"

He nodded. "I wanted you so badly."

Lenore could feel her stomach jerk, as if being reeled in by a fishing line. It was not like the little tingles she got when he called her cute or beautiful, this was even more intense.

He continued. "I fancied you so much, Lenny. You were so close to me. I could feel your lips through my shirt, even though you weren't kissing me. I felt everything. Your breath. Your body heat. You thigh touching mine. I just couldn't handle it. I'm still embarrassed."

"Don't be," she whispered. "I didn't mind."

He stared at her, swaying slightly in the air. "You make me so nervous. But it's a good nervous. I'm not scared you'll think I'm stupid. You're… probably the only person I talk to who I'm not worried about sounding stupid in front of. I know you know I'm smart."

"I think you're brilliant," she said.

"Because you're just as smart. No, you're smarter. Much smarter. Your brain is so quick and every time you speak, I'm just like, 'Woahhhh.'"

She laughed. "Thanks."

He placed a hand on her face once more and stroked her jawline with his thumb. "How perfect are you, though? You look like an angel."

She winced. "Don't call me perfect. I don't like that. But I appreciate the sentiment."

"Okay," he said, blinking tiredly. "You're right. Nobody's perfect. But you're bloody close."

"Well… thanks," she smiled shyly. "I'll let that one slip."

Neville pulled her into a hug and she reciprocated by holding his back tightly. He nuzzled his head next to hers and she could feel his cheeks turned up in a grin.

"Why are you smiling?" she laughed.

"Because I'm so fucking drunk," his smile grew wider. "I can feel it."

Lenore giggled and pulled away to look at his face. "I'm going to hand you back to Seamus, okay?"

"Alright," he smiled. "Goodnight. You're so sweet."

"You're so drunk."

Another goofy grin. "But I'm sweet, too."

"Okay, you weirdo," she finally giggled as she shoved him. "You're sweet, too."

He kissed her forehead once, then she led him over towards Seamus. He wobbled as he walked, so she laid a palm on his back and stomach to steady him.

"Wait," he stopped. "Why can't I kiss you?"

She watched him a moment. "Because you're drunk."

"So?"

"So, you can't give consent when you're drunk and we didn't talk about this while you were sober."

"I give you my consent to do anything you want to me for the rest of my life," he smiled.

She rolled her eyes. "Great, but that's not enough. You're drunk. I'm not going to take advantage of you. And if I'm the drunk one next time, you better do the same for me."

"Of course," he said. "I completely respect you."

She smiled. "Keeping telling me things like that and when you're sober, I'll snog you so hard your head spins."

Neville blinked heavily. "Wow. That was sexy."

She clutched the front of his shirt between her fingers. "I promise, holding off on kissing me only makes me want to kiss you more when you're sober."

He grinned. "I really like you."

"I really like you, too," she giggled. "You might even say I fancy you."

A high-pitched noise of glee flew from his throat as he smiled lazily. She laughed. "I'm going to hand you to Seamus now. Goodnight, Nev."

"Goodnight, Lenny," he smiled. "You're so pretty."

"You've mentioned that."

He grinned. "I'll never stop mentioning it. You're so pretty."

Lenore laughed and held him tighter. "You're just lucky we are dating right now and you didn't reveal all this last time you were drunk, when you hadn't yet admitted your feelings."

"You were so pretty then, too," he gave her a wide smile. "Pretty Lenny."

"Ew," she laughed. "Go to sleep. Here's Seamus."

Lenore inched him back out into the hallway with Seamus and Dean. She placed his cup of water in his hand and he took a sip before saying to Seamus,"Isn't Lenore pretty?"

Seamus looked at Lenore. "He's drunker than I thought."

Lenore gasped and Seamus immediately laughed. "No! Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Lenore, you are pretty. I should have separated my comments."

She chuckled. "It's fine, I got you. Take care of him, please."

"I need to lay down," Neville muttered.

Both all three glanced at him as his head bobbed up and down. "Give him some of you sobering pills before he goes to bed," Lenore requested.

Seamus nodded. "I will."

Lenore squeezed's Neville's hand. "Goodnight, Nev."

He closed his eyes and laid his head on Seamus's tiny frame. "Goodnight, Lenore. Love you."

Lenore froze. She made eye contact with Seamus, whose mouth dropped open. Her brain would not stop spinning. She had just told him last night that she did not want him to say the word "love." He could not have meant it, could he? Oh god, what if he did?

Seamus cut in, "Goodnight, Neville."

"Goodnight, Seamus. Love you."

Lenore sighed in giddy relief and Seamus laughed. Dean's tense shoulders fell. Dean tried as well. "Goodnight, Neville."

"Goodnight, Dean. Love you."

Lenore's smile nearly doubled in relief as she let out an amused sigh. "Thank God."

"I'll say," Dean agreed. "It might be his catchphrase."

Seamus cut in. "Goodnight, Neville. Love you."

"Love you, too."

He smiled up at them. "I love you all."

"Who do you love the most?" Seamus asked.

"Mmmm…" He seemed to be thinking. "Me."

"You love yourself the most?" Lenore smiled.

"Yeah."

She laughed. "That's actually great."

"You're in the top ten."

"I'm in the top ten? Out of only four people?"

He giggled animatedly. "Yep."

"Okay," she turned to Seamus with mirth, "take him away. Let him sleep this off."

She pawned him off to his mates and returned to her dormitory for some much-needed sleep.

 **.**

 **Dean's POV**

Seamus slung Neville into Dean's arms and muttered something about it being his turn to take care of the boy. He pushed the drunk Neville up the Gryffindor stairs and into the bathroom, where he figured he could handle himself. Dean sat on his bed for a moment, before he realized he was too full of thoughts to sleep. He left their dormitory and found a place in the common room on a red plush sofa in front of a roaring Gryffindor fire. He sat on the couch and attempted to organize his thoughts.

So, Ginny fancied him. That was new. New and terrible. He did not want her to fancy him. Unless… she did not actually fancy him.

He opened his eyes. What if she was manipulating him into staying with her? He would not be surprised if she was. Ginny was manipulative and he detested her for it. No matter what he said, she could always twist his words and confuse him. He wanted to break up with her, but something was stopping him. Perhaps it was fear. Fear of her repercussion, fear of hurting her, or fear of being even more alone than he already felt.

It was probably the last one, he admitted begrudgingly.

The portrait hole squeaked open and Dean peered up from the roaring fire. Jack and Margaux entered, smiling and disheveled. Dean frowned, but smiled when Margaux made eye contact with him. She waved goodnight to Jack and made a beeline for Dean's couch, which made his heart soar.

"Hi, Dean," Margaux smiled brightly.

She took a seat on the couch next to him as he held her gaze steady. "Hi, Mar."

"How was your night?"

"Mine was… interesting. How was yours?"

Her muscular legs curled into her chest as she stuffed her white dress between her thighs to hide anything personal. "Mine was good. I had a much better time at Seamus's party than Slughorn's."

"Me, too," Dean said. "I mean… mostly."

Dean knew he should not have said that. He had wanted to keep this conversation light and breezy. To not expose himself further to her— he had already done that enough.

Margaux smiled softly at him, "You look bloody miserable right now."

Dean shook his head. "I'm just… thinking about a lot."

Her head tilted. "Like what?"

"Like… I don't know. Relationships, mostly."

"You and Ginny?"

"Me and everybody, honestly," he shrugged. "Of course Ginny, but also me and Seamus, and me and Neville, and Neville and Lenore, and you and Jack, and—"

"I'm not in a relationship with Jack," she interrupted.

"No," Dean said quickly. "And I'm not in a relationship with Neville. I just mean in general, there's a lot of different people doing different things lately. It's confusing. Everything is changing so fast."

Margaux hugged her legs. "What do you mean?"

Another shrug. "I don't know. Seamus has been my best mate for six years. Now I don't even know if he wants to be my friend. Neville was my second best mate, but now he's honestly moving into the number one category since Seamus is messing up. The problem is, I don't see him as much now that he's dating Lenore. That's weird, too. I mean, not weird, I'm happy for him, but it really is odd not having him constantly around. And Ginny, I… I don't even know what to say about her. I just… I feel… lonely, you know?

Margaux nodded understandingly, although she was clearly confused. "That's a valid feeling. Sometimes I feel lonely, too."

Dean stared down at his hands. "Sometimes… I just feel like I don't have any friends anymore. Like somewhere along the line, everyone slipped away from me."

He could feel his heart thump in his chest as he said, "You, too. We hardly talk anymore. I hardly talk to anyone anymore."

"Because you're always with Ginny," Margaux said gently.

Dean moved his eyes from his hands to the fire. He watched the crispy embers flare up and die down, illuminating the empty common room.

"I know," he whispered.

Margaux was silent, but he felt her eyes on his face. "Dean… I wish you were you again."

He moved his gaze to her soft face, which glowed in the firelight. "What do you mean?"

She clasped and unclasped her hands on her knees. "You're not you when you're with Ginny. I miss you. The real you."

Dean stared at her a moment, feeling a connection he had not felt with her in over two months. Her round eyes watched him with great care, twinkling bright in the warm flickering firelight.

He nearly whispered, "Should I break up with Ginny?"

Margaux's mouth dropped open. Her eyes scanned his face, devouring his every emotion and soaking it into her brain. "Yes."

Dean's lips parted.

"I was going to lie and tell you no, but Dean… she's hurting you. I can see it in your eyes. She's hurting you and you're too good for that."

"You really think so?"

She nodded and touched her hand to his. Jolts of electric energy soared up his limb as her fingers tapped his skin twice, before pulling away.

"Dean, you don't seem like the type to have confidence issues, but you do, don't you?"

"I…" He furrowed his brow. "I mean, doesn't everyone?"

"You don't need to have confidence issues," she said. "You're a great guy. You don't need Ginny. You could date anyone at his school."

But he could not date her.

Dean wanted to shout out his feelings. He wanted to scream them to the world. He fancied this girl across the couch and he could hardly stop himself from admitting it to her. Her pale green eyes stared into his and her pink lips turned up in a soft smile. Bloody hell, Dean wanted to tell her how he felt. The only thing stopping him was his own fear. By this point, he had nothing to lose. Absolutely nothing.

"Hey, Dean," she said suddenly, breaking his courage.

"Yeah?"

"When we… kissed…?"

His heart beat against his ribs, pounding blood through his ears. "Y-yeah?"

"You… you liked it, didn't you?"

Dean's lips parted as she bit her cheek nervously. Where was she going with this question? His heart palpitated through his skull as he admitted, "I-I mean, yes."

"And does that make you feel awkward now?"

Dean's mind was spinning. "D-do you feel awkward around me?"

"Sometimes," she breathed. "Because I… liked kissing you, too."

Dean blinked. He could feel his limbs shake, especially his hands. "That… that's good."

She scanned his face and sighed. "I don't know why I brought this up. I'm just looking at you and thinking about it."

"Do you… think about it a lot?"

"No," she shook her head. "Not a lot. Sometimes I just wonder what would have happened if I hadn't kissed you."

"What… what do you mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I just feel like things are weird between us and I wish they weren't."

"I don't want things to be weird either, Mar. I want to be your close friend again. I-I mean, at least I thought we were close friends."

"We were," she said. "I miss talking to you."

"I miss everything about you."

The words slipped out of his mouth faster than he could stop them. Margaux's lips parted in clear shock, but she eventually laughed it off as Dean cowered behind his own embarrassment, thankful for his darkened skin to hide his blush. "I guess I miss everything about you, too."

Dean smiled back at her, wide and genuine. "So, let's be friends again."

"The problem is," she winced, "I don't think we can while you're dating Ginny. I just don't think she wants me near you. She's the jealous type."

"Y-yeah, she is."

"Do you…"

Margaux stared into his eyes for much too long. "Dean, do you actually fancy Ginny?"

Dean sighed and whispered, "No. I don't."

"Did you… ever fancy her?"

He shook his head gently and said even quieter, "No."

"And you know she doesn't actually fancy you, right?"

"Wait…" he said. "She just told me tonight that she did."

"Oh," Margaux blinked. "Well, last I heard, she still fancied Harry. She outright told me that she didn't fancy you."

"W-well," he said, "maybe she changed her mind. Or, maybe she is just lusting after me."

Margaux nodded. "Is that why you stay with her? For the snogging?"

Dean hesitated. He did not want to admit to Margaux that is was a major reason he stayed with Ginny. She was bloody good at snogging, but he did not want to appear too physically obsessed to Margaux. He did not fancy Ginny, he just liked snogging her. With Margaux, he wanted more than just a snog. He wanted to take her on dates, to make her laugh, to spend time with her, to show her and tell her everything about himself. He wanted to make her feel special and appreciated. He never wanted that for Ginny. Margaux was so much more to him than a snog.

"In this case… partially. Mar, I swear, I'm not like this. I honest-to-God don't know what's wrong with me lately. I don't just want a snog, I want a relationship. A real relationship were we fancy each other and most importantly, we respect each other."

"Do you respect Ginny?"

"I… I did. Up until that day in Hogsmeade when she insulted you."

Margaux smiled. "Is she really that good of a snogger?"

Dean exhaled. "Yeah. But she's no you."

Margaux laughed as he slammed his lips shut. Bloody hell, he could not stop talking tonight. He opened his mouth to clarify and hide his feelings, but she spoke.

"Am I really that good of a snogger?"

She had taken it as a joke. Thank god. Dean exhaled, "You're… bloody brilliant at it."

"That's what Jack told me," she said as she shook her shoulders. Dean's heart fell. "Maybe I am."

"Maybe you are," he said quietly.

"What have you done with Ginny?" she asked. "Are you… a virgin?"

He bit his cheek. "I am, yeah. Are… are you?"

He was pretty sure she was, but he could never be sure. Not that it mattered to him if she was or not, he was just curious. It seemed like the natural thing to ask after she did.

"Yeah," she nodded. "What's the furthest you've gone?"

"Erm…" Yet again, Dean was thankful the heat of his cheeks did not transfer into a red blush. "Ginny stuck her hand down my pants but I told her to stop."

Margaux's eyes doubled in size. "No way! Like, she grabbed it?"

Dean nodded. "Y-yeah."

"Why did you tell her to stop?"

"B-because she forced herself on me. And I'm not ready for that. And I don't fancy her."

"So… you want your first time doing anything sexual to be with someone you fancy?"

Dean nodded. "Y-yeah, I think so."

"I'm not sure I do," she said. "I don't know. I see the benefits of both. Like, on one hand, a one night stand would be quick and easy and you just get the firsts out of the way. But on the other hand, it would be nice to mutually care about the person."

"I can see both sides," Dean said. "I just know that person won't be Ginny."

"You should only do it with someone who respects you, no matter if you fancy them or not."

"I completely agree." He took in her wise words, tumbling them around his brain for a few seconds. "Mar, you're so smart and self-assured."

Her brilliant teeth smiled back at him. "Thanks!"

He returned the grin as she tapped his hand once more. "I should be getting to bed. I really enjoyed talking to you."

"I really enjoyed talking to you, too."

She stared at him, sitting frozen on the plush couch. "Dean… I really do miss you."

His breath caught in his chest as he gazed back at her. "I miss you, too."

She smiled. "Alright, good. Goodnight."

"Mar," he grabbed her hand as she stood. "Please… promise me we'll be friends again."

She squeezed his fingers. "I promise. And Dean, you never stopped being my friend."

He stared into her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to cup her face in his hand and kiss her, softly and sweetly, until she knew how much he admired her. She was so beautiful that it hurt his heart to look at her. Not only was the beautiful outside, but she was the kindest, sweetest, smartest girl he had ever met. She deserved all the care in the world and he wanted to be the one to give it to her. He wanted to kiss her more than anything, but he refrained and simply said, "You never stopped being mine, either."

She smiled and slipped her hand away from his. "Goodnight. I'll talk to you later."

"You, too."

As she ascended the staircase, Dean's eyes flickered to her white dress. On her bum laid two orange-dusted handprints.

Jack.


	32. Chapter 32: Hotcakes and Lamb

**Thanks to n0156d2 for the review! And thanks to all the new followers! These next few chapters are a bit darker and will deal with depression and abuse, so just a warning! But they will all get a happy ending, don't worry. And lots of quality banter between characters. Leave a review! Thanks!**

...

 **Neville's POV**

"You know my birthday is this Thursday, right?"

Neville laughed as he followed Lenore into the Potions classroom. "You haven't let me forget."

"Good," she smiled. "Because it's a big deal to me. My birthdays have alway kind of been shit, but I think this one will be okay."

Neville slung his backpack onto the lab table. "Why do you think that?"

"Because I know you'll do something special."

She grinned at him so beautifully and he returned the gesture.

"I might."

Lenore sat down on one of the stools and Neville sat next to her.

"You will," she played. "Please? I don't get a lot of attention on my birthday because it's so close to Margaux's."

"It's two weeks before."

"My birthday is November seventh and my family still combines my birthday and Christmas presents."

Neville chuckled. "Do they really?"

"My extended family, yeah," she whined. "I know that sounds selfish, and I'm not saying I expect present from them, but it would be less shitty to just say 'This is for Christmas' and not get me a birthday present than to say "Well ah ha ha ho, why don't I just cheap out and give her this box of slightly used crayons for both holidays?'"

"Has that happened?" he asked as his eyes widened.

"Thanks Uncle Gary!" she clapped her hands together. "It wasn't even a full box of crayons. He replaced the green and the blue crayons with the free ones they hand out with Applebee's kids menus."

Neville guessed that was an American restaurant, so he laughed. "That is… pretty bad. What did he get Margaux?"

"A coloring book. That's even shittier. We had to share the presents to be able to use them."

"Were you… were you poor growing up?" Neville asked at once. He realized he probably should have phrased that better.

"No!" she smacked the desk. "The only people who were poor were my grandparents. All their daughters have good jobs and they married men with decent jobs, but we're a bunch of cheap bastards. My dad is the most educated person in the family by far and he makes probably double what my uncles make, but this summer he refused to let us turn on the air conditioning or any fans because he didn't want to pay for the electricity. And we have to shower in under ten minutes because they don't want to pay the water bill. They're all weird with money, on both sides of the family, and they made Margaux weird with money. She grew up thinking we were poor so she freaks out about money."

Neville nodded. "I notice you're weird about money sometimes, too."

"How?" she asked.

"I don't know. You just appreciate it more than most people, you know? I guess it's because you have to work in the summer and buy your own things. I think you just value money more than most people."

She nodded. "I think so. You should hear Margaux, though. She freaks out every time she has to spend money. She steals every chance she gets. Well, not steals, she's a good person. But like, if somebody offers one thing for free, she'll take twenty when they aren't looking. One time in primary school she came home from the county fair with thirty pens from a law office. And when we go to the grocery store, she'll take every sample on the platter when the snack handlers aren't paying attention. My mom and dad do it, too. If it's free, they'll take it, even if they don't need it. That's how for my eighth birthday I ended up with some Barbies my mom and aunt found in a dumpster."

"What?" he laughed.

"Yeah," she said. "My American family goes dumpster diving. Not literally, but they pick through people's trash. They'll do it after community yard sales or before trash pick-up day. The Barbie dolls were from the dumpster behind a Dollar General. The dolls were nice. I didn't mind. I just think it's funny."

Neville just stared at her. He could not believe what he was hearing. "Well… hopefully what I have planned is better than a doll from a bin."

"My expectations are incredibly low, as you've come to realize."

He smiled. "I like it, though. You're a nice change from the purebloods I grew up around."

"I like hanging out with poor people better than rich people," she said. "It's just more relaxed, you know? You don't constantly have to be one-upping each other."

"I agree. I never liked being around the rich purebloods when I was a kid."

Lenore nodded. "I think that's why Margaux and I tend to stick around halfbloods and not rich people."

"Well…" he said. "Somehow you ended up with me."

She smiled. "Because I know I can marry you and take all your money."

His eyes widened as she giggled.

"Just kidding! It's because you value money, too. You're not a prat about your blood status or the fact that you have money."

"No," he laughed. "It's because you're a Slytherin. You want my status."

"What status?" she teased.

"That's for you to determine."

"No, but really," she said suddenly, "I'm kind of scared to date purebloods."

His eyes widened. "What? Why?"

"Because… I'm not pure. If I had kids with a pureblood, I would ruin centuries of bloodlines."

"Lenore," he said firmly. "You wouldn't ruin anything. You would make the bloodline better."

"I know," she cringed. "It's just something I've thought about. I think I would feel bad."

Neville took her hand. "Don't ever feel bad for being you. That's just the Slytherins talking in your ear. Your mom's family isn't lesser because they're muggles ad you know that."

"They're lesser because they dig through dumpsters."

Neville was not sure if that was a joke or not, until she began giggling. "Sorry, I'm kidding. No, I know. I prefer the muggle family to the pureblood family."

He chuckled and squeezed her hand. "I just realized I sat down next to you instead of with Dean and Seamus."

"I noticed that," she smiled. "Odette, Parvarti, and Lavender just walked in, started heading towards me, then turned and went for another table."

"Sorry," he flushed.

"No," she said. "We've never been partners in here before. Let's do it."

"Alright," he smiled. "You just want to see how badly I'll fuck this up."

"Yeah. Kind of."

She squeezed his hand as she beamed. He felt his heart race as her eyes twinkled playfully at him.

He and Lenore had been dating for about nine weeks, which was completely surreal. It still did not feel possible sometimes. A constant fear that this was all a dream nagged him, but he never woke up from this dream, so it must be reality. Every single day with her was better than the last. She made him feel more loved and appreciated than he ever had in his entire life. She helped him slowly start to realize that it was okay for him to love himself and for that, he would forever be grateful.

"Slughorn's late," she said, snapping him out of his daze.

Neville glanced at his watch. "That's weird."

Lenore glanced around. "It is. I wonder—"

At the moment, Slughorn hurried in from the hallway and the heavy wooden door slammed shut. "So sorry, students! I was talking with Headmaster Dumbledore! Let's get down to business."

He took a deep breath and his moustace hairs flew on his exhale. "Amortentia," he said as he used his wand to summon the ingredients. "The dangerous love potion."

Lenore raised her brows. "Oh my god, I'm excited."

She let go of Neville's hand and faced Slughorn.

"Come on!" Slughorn ushered his students forward. "Gather around!"

The thirty or so students in the class filed forward as Slughorn went to work mixing the potion. Smoke and stream swirled in the air and Slughorn's mess of grey hair slowly became even more disheveled. Lenore watched him work in intense silence.

Neville loved watching Lenore in Potions class. She was so incredibly skilled and she always seemed to know what she was doing. She was fearless in this class and confident beyond her normal swagger. She knew she was good at Potions and she was always interested in the material. He could not say the same for himself. He rarely understood what was going on and he relied heavily on Seamus to carry him through the class.

"I need a volunteer," requested Slughorn.

Half the class backed up. Even Lenore adjusted herself so that Slughorn could not see her behind Neville's body. He laughed quietly at her as she pushed his arm and whispered, "Shh."

"Miss Granger!" Slughorn said. "Good, good! Come here, won't you?"

Hermione stepped forward, but before Neville could see what was going on, Lenore whispered in his ear, "Hey."

"Yeah?" he returned the quiet tone.

"Is our Charms homework due tomorrow? The essay?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck," she said. "I thought it was due on Friday."

"Nope," he shook his head. "Wednesday."

"Can I see yours?"

"Are you going to copy off me?"

"No!" she giggled. "I just want to see. Mine's mostly done, I just want to make sure I didn't leave anything out."

"Yeah," he said, "I'll show you when we get back to the table."

"Longbottom!" Slughorn boomed, causing Neville to jump. "Tell the class what the mixture smells like to you."

Neville stared dumbly at the professor for a second before he said, "Y-yes, sir."

Neville heard Lenore's quiet laugh after he flinched, so he glanced at her before he moved. She flashed him an amused smile, which made his heart pound, but he smiled back at her. He slipped past Parvati, Lavender, and a few other girls clambered close to the cauldron. The lid to the pot was already open and the pink fumes of the potion wafted into the drafty classroom. Neville's eyes flashed to Slughorn, who urged him to place his face closer to the cauldron. He leaned down and at once his nose was hit with… nothing. It smelled like nothing.

Again, he looked towards Slughorn. "W-what am I supposed to be smelling?"

"Anything, my boy!" the professor proclaimed. "Miss Granger said she detected grass and mint. You could smell anything in this world inside that cauldron."

He sniffed again, but still nothing. It simply smelled like air. As one last fume drifted to his nostrils, the realization struck him.

It smelled like Lenore's perfume.

His lips parted. The scent was incredibly distinct. It was a mixture of musky vanilla, caramel, and coffee beans that he had only ever smelled on her. He realized why he had not been able to smell anything before— he was standing next to Lenore for the past twenty minutes and his nose had grown used to her scent for the time being.

His mind was having a panic attack of its own. He did not love Lenore, did he? He could not turn around to look at her during that moment, it would be too weird. Slughorn stared at him as he heart pounded against his chest. Neville could not admit that it was Lenore's perfume that he smelled. He had to make up a few scents and fast.

"I-I smell…"

His brain suddenly went blank. _Come on, just name two scents. Any two things that could be smelled._ "Vanilla…"

Well, fuck. He already revealed one thing that was true.

"Grapefruit and coconut," he rushed to continue.

Slughorn gave a short nod. "Very good, my boy!"

Neville returned to his place in the back row, next to Lenore. He had been avoiding her eye contact until he stopped and turned to her. She smiled again, wide and beautiful, at him and he realized, in that moment, he did love her.

 _Bollocks._

That was his first reaction. _Bollocks._ Her warm, friendly smile dissipated as she faced Slughorn once more. Neville continued to stare at her from the corner of his eye.

He loved her.

This could not be good. They had barely been dating two months. Just last week, she had practically begged him not to fall in love with her yet. Neville wanted to roll his eyes at himself until his pupils fell out. No. He did not love her. He couldn't. It must be the fumes causing his brain to act funny. Except, he knew very well that was not how the potion worked.

"Alright!" Slughorn announced. "You'll be brewing your own love potion. Not Amortentia, of course, that would be dangerous. No, today, you all will brew a potion known commercially as Beguiling Bubbles. The potion is often sold in joke shops and the likes, but we'll be making our own knock-off version. You'll need to partner up."

Lenore faced him. "We've never been partners on anything before."

"W-want to work together?" he managed to stammer out.

She agreed and they found an empty lab table far away from Slughorn. Neville found his Charms essay and handed it to her. As he gathered the ingredients, she read over his essay.

"Neville," she said, "why are you writing this in first person?"

"W-what?"

"You've said 'I believe,' or 'I would argue.' Nobody cares what you believe. You need to prove it."

He watched her a moment as she stared down at his paper and continued reading. Well, fuck. She was chastising him and he still felt exactly the same. He did love her. It wasn't a heat of the moment mind game. His feelings were real.

"Y-you should teach me, then," he said.

She peered up at him and examined his face. "Why are you stammering?"

"I-I don't know."

She placed his essay on the table and said, "Nev, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. It really is a great essay."

"No," he shook his head quickly. "No, I don't mind what you said about the essay. I don't mind one bit. You're right."

"Then why are you stammering?"

"I-I honestly don't know," he said. "Really, Len, I just get like this sometimes."

"Are you feeling alright today?" she asked gently.

"Y-yeah."

His stomach fluttered as she leaned on her elbows and looked up at him. "You look like a ghost."

"D-do I?" he reached up to touch his cheeks.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Definitely."

"Mmm," she still examined him. "You look like you're about to vomit."

"N-no. I just… All this potion-making must have worn me out."

She smiled, fully aware of his lie. "You really don't know why you're stammering?"

"I-isn't stammering normal?"

She touched her shoulder to his and left it there to rest. "Not much anymore."

"Well, m-maybe I'm stammering because you look so beautiful today."

She laughed loudly. "You're such a bad liar. But thanks."

He simply gave her a soft smile and continued working on the potion.

"Well," she said, "I hope you feel better. You don't have to be nervous around me. And you can tell me anything."

Except, he could not tell her this secret.

He simply nodded and said, "I will."

Eventually she backed away from him, leaving his shoulder exposed to the drafty air. She worked in silence, chopping up herbs with care and deliberation. When he was sure she was not paying attention, Neville turned his gaze on her.

He did love her.

He loved her. Neville loved Lenore. He could not explain exactly how he knew, but he was certain.

And he was terrified.

Of course he always knew deep down that he cared for her. He had fancied her for over a year and a half. It was only natural for him to fall in love with her after that amount of time. It was normal. Right?

Lenore said it wasn't normal. Her friends had told her two or three months are a good amount of time to date before you fall in love, but Lenore did not agree. He wanted to ask her. He had to bite his lips in to stop himself from asking her what an appropriate amount of time to date before love was. It would be too obvious if he asked right now. He was already being weird about the potion and he could not help that, but he could stop himself from talking.

Her commanding voice interrupted his thoughts. "Stir this while I put in these pieces."

He immediately jumped for the stirring rod as she emptied the purple beets into the potion. He swirled the liquid around as she asked, "What did you say it smelled like to you before?"

Neville panicked again. He had forgotten what he said last time. "Um… vanilla, grapefruit, and coconut, right?"

"I think that's what you said. Check ours and make sure it smells the same."

He obeyed and tilted his nose into the cauldron. Yet again, he smelled Lenore's perfume. He closed his eyes for a couple seconds in annoyance.

"Smells the same to me," he said. "Maybe even stronger."

After the words left his mouth, he realized the scent was stronger because he smelled both the mixture and Lenore only a foot away from him. His eyes involuntarily rolled, like he had promised he would do earlier.

"What was that face for?" she laughed.

He quickly adjusted his expression. "What face?"

"Never mind," she waved her hand. "I don't want to know what borderline rude thing you were thinking."

"I-it wasn't rude. What does the potion smell like to you?"

She leaned down and gave it a whiff. Her face crinkled. "Like… dirt. What the heck? Literally, just a bunch of dirt."

Neville laughed. "I don't think that's a good sign."

"Well, fuck," she giggled. "I hope that doesn't mean my love life is going to be mucky."

"Why?" Slughorn asked from behind the pair. "What do you smell?"

Lenore's thumb pointed towards the cauldron. "It smells like dirt to me. You know, like fresh dirt you can buy in bags at home improvement shops. Or right after farmers till their land."

"Hmmm," Slughorn thought a moment. "I'm sure that doesn't mean anything negative. Perhaps you just like a partner who enjoys the outdoors. Maybe a farmer or naturalist, for example."

Lenore nodded. "I would hope so. That's better than saying my romantic prospects are soiled."

"No, no," Slughorn assured her. "Perhaps even a Herbologist."

He winked towards Neville as the boy felt his heart nearly stop. The beating began to pick up pace as his view of Lenore became unobstructed by Slughorn's escape to the next lab table. Neville quickly avoided her gaze.

When Slughorn was out of earshot, Lenore suddenly laughed. Quite loudly. "God, he's so nosey," she whispered.

"Y-yeah."

A beat of silence passed over them, before Lenore whispered again. "Hey, Neville?"

He peered down at her and felt himself grow nervous as her green eyes met his own brown ones.

"I don't love you," she smiled. "So don't get any ideas."

"I-I-I…" he could not do much more than stutter. "I know. O-of course."

"Maybe down the road, this is a sign I could, but… No. So don't be awkward about it, please?"

"I-I'm already awkward about everything," he returned her grin.

"I know," she said playfully. "But please, I'm actually begging you, forget this. I love nobody except myself."

"That's an obvious lie," he scoffed.

She grew defensive. "How do you figure?"

"You love your sister. And you love plenty of people as friends. Katie. Angelina. Odette. I'd even say you love me as a friend."

"Don't start," she shook her head. "We are not talking about this."

"Why? Does it embarrass you to have feelings?"

"Yes, actually," she said, still avoiding his eye contact. "I don't like them. I treat everyone the same."

"Alright," he said. "Then go up to Hermione and have a full conversation."

She hesitated. "No. I don't talk to her when I'm not in forced social situations with her."

"But you treat everyone the same?"

"Not the people I especially like."

"Couldn't you argue that love is a special type of like?"

She fell silent, then crossed her arms. "I the-opposite-of-love you."

He laughed. "You hate me?"

"I do."

The corners of her mouth revealed her playful mirth, despite him only being able to witness the side of her face. "No, you don't."

She squared her body up to his. "What if I did?"

"Hate is an emotion and we both know you would ignore it."

"Hate is not simply an emotion for me. Hate is a way of life. A mantra, if you will. A lifestyle brand."

He grinned. "You're funny."

"You're funnier," she giggled before pecking him on the lips.

As she pulled away, Neville smelled her comforting perfume once more. He mentally kicked himself once again for his feelings.

Lenore took the stirring rod from his hand and finished up the work herself. "I wonder why you smell… what was it again?"

He blinked. "I… What? Oh, um, grapefruit and coconut."

"And vanilla."

"Yeah."

"I wonder why."

He shrugged. "I… I don't think it has to be logical."

"Let's see, grapefruit is bitter… coconut is rough on the outside but sweet inside… what's vanilla?"

He thought a moment. "It overpowers a lot of smells."

"So it's dominant. Neville!" she gasped.

His eyes widened. "What?"

"You like a bitter, dominant girl who is rough outside but sweet inside."

He laughed. "I think you're reading too much into this."

"I'm not saying one specific girl. I'm saying in general you like women like that."

"Definitely reading too much into it," he smiled.

She leaned her elbow on the table then settled her face onto her fist. "You dooooo," she teased.

"I mean… you might not be wrong. But I think I could say any three scents and you would be able to make it into something that sounds deep. Like Zodiac signs. You can twist it to be whatever you want."

"Okay," she grinned. "Maybe. But I just think it's funny."

"Why?"

"Because it's true."

"It's true because you twisted it to make it true."

"Shhhh," she hushed him.

"Now you're just trying to make yourself dominant to fit into that archetype you built."

"No!" she argued. "Because I don't want you to love me."

His face must have contorted somehow, because she instantly said, "Not yet, at least."

Neville was quiet a moment, before he finally decided to ask his question. "Len, I know you can't really put a date on a feeling, but… When do you think is a normal amount of time to date before you can love someone?"

She scanned his eyes a moment, seemingly searching for something behind them. But she must not have found what she was looking for, because she shrugged off her stare. "I don't know. I don't want you to say it first."

"So…" he hesitated. "Even if I feel it one day in the future, you don't want me to say it?"

"I don't know," she cringed. "Neville, I'm really sorry. I'm playing with your emotions, I know. You are allowed to feel love when whenever you want. Just… don't tell me."

He still stared at her. "I… don't really understand, but okay."

She leaned on the side of his arm. "I don't know. Can I think about what I want and let you know?"

He nodded. "No rush. I don't… feel it yet."

As the words exited his mouth, he knew they were a lie. He did feel it.

"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll think about it and let you know. It won't take me long. Maybe a day."

He touched his hand briefly to hers and she flipped her palm over grabbed his fingers.

"Take your time," he said gently. "As long as we're together, I really don't care."

She smiled. "Thank you, hun."

"Hun?" he opened his eyes wide. "When did you start that?"

"I'm going to call you 'hun' and you're going to like it," she laughed.

"I do like it," he beamed. "But what do I call you?"

"We'll talk about nicknames later. Professor!"

She let go of Neville's hand as she waved over Slughorn. The instructor tested their potion and gave full marks, which made Lenore do a little dance with her shoulders as Slughorn left.

"What?" Neville asked. "You weren't expecting full marks?"

"No, I was. I'm just celebrating another perfect grade."

Neville smiled as she began to close containers and tubes of potion ingredients. "You should be my partner more often in here."

"Ha!" she laughed. "I'd carry the team."

"That's okay, I could carry the team in something else."

"What class?"

"Umm… Defense."

Her mouth dropped open. "I'm decent at Defense!"

"I know you are. Just like I'm decent at Potions."

She used her wand to vanish the love potion from her cauldron. "Neville, you are not decent at Potions."

"I… Yes I am!"

"No, you're not," she giggled. "You are adequate at Potions."

She shrunk her cauldron so that it fit into her backpack and tied together the strings as Neville stared at her. "Put your things away," she smiled. "Let's get out of here."

"You're teasing aren't you?" he asked after a moment.

She pushed his textbook closed for him. "Of course I am! Merlin, I'm not that awful, am I?"

"No," he chuckled. "But really… I'm better at Defense than you."

"That's not hard to do," she said. "And really, you are. Defense and Herbology are clearly your best subjects. Also, don't be rude to your girlfriend."

"Rude?" he questioned as he shoved his things thing his bag.

"Don't tell me I'm bad at things!"

"I didn't say that!" he argued. "I'm just saying I'm better."

She laughed. "You're acting very Leo right now."

"Don't start with this zodiac stuff—"

"What an egomaniac!" she sighed.

He smiled as she giggled. Her eyes twinkled in delight as she asked, "What are you doing tonight?"

He thought a moment. "Nothing. I mean, I need one more paragraph on that Charms essay, but that's it."

"How about you finish it and then spend time with me?"

"Okay," he said as they exited the classroom into the busy hallway. "Why, are we going to pick out your nickname?"

She did not skip a beat. "I'm going to make you moan my nickname."

His eyes widened as she laughed loudly.

"Just kidding! Sorry, no. Well, maybe. I just want to spend time with you."

"Bloody hell," he exhaled. "You can do whatever you want with me."

She elbowed him in the chest and giggled. "That was really smooth."

"Thanks. Where did you want to meet?"

"How about right after dinner we can go find a hallway to sit in?"

"That's fine with me."

She smiled as she lowered her voice. "We're definitely going to snog now, after you were that witty."

He gulped. "Like I said, we can do whatever you want."

"Alright. I'm going back to my room. Meet me outside the Great Hall whenever you get done eating. No rush."

"Oh, there will be a rush," he gulped.

She giggled and nudged him with her shoulder. "I'll see you tonight, okay? I'm going to my dorm."

"See you," he waved.

Neville's hand flashed over his Charms essay in record time and two hours later he practically inhaled his dinner. By 7:30 p.m., he sat on a bench outside the Great Hall, waiting for Lenore to finish eating. At 7:45, she met him with a smile.

"I told you not to rush."

He kissed her lips in greeting. "And I told you I would rush."

She laughed. "Okay, let's go down to the dungeons."

They walked down two flights of stone stairs and Lenore led him to their usual secluded area. No one ever visited this area of the castle because it was dark and dingy, with hardly any light, not to mention the dead end. Lenore sat down in the corner of this dead end and Neville sat across from her.

"So, how was your day?" she grinned.

"Good," he replied. "I liked being your partner in Potions."

"Yeah?" she smiled. "Me, too."

"Was I better than you expected?"

"You're always better than I expected."

Neville's eyes widened at her jab as she giggled. "Sorry, I'm kidding. I knew you would be great at everything."

He adjusted his body so he could lean his cheek on fist. "You are mean, you know that?" he teased.

She laughed. "I know. I'm sorry."

He took her hand in his. "Nah. You're not mean."

"Thanks for the reassurance."

She was being sarcastic but he still squeezed her hand and asked, "So, when is this Newlywed Game thing?"

"Next Saturday. Neville, I told you already."

"You… you told me maybe. A tentative date."

"Nooo," she argued. "I told you for sure."

He looked at her for a while. "Is something bothering you?"

She blinked. "What? No."

"Oh," he said quietly. "Never mind."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because…" He should not have brought this up. "You're being very argumentative today."

She pursed her lips. "Well, I am cranky today. Not at you. I don't really have a reason."

"You just feel cranky?"

"Yeah."

He smiled. "That's okay. I'm glad it's not me. I thought I did something wrong."

"No!" she said. "No, you're perfect. I'm just irrationally angry and I'm taking it out on you. I'm sorry."

"You don't know why you're angry?"

"No!" she said as she squeezed his hand. "Okay… Nev, I'm going to tell you way too much, but settle in because you're going to hear me bitch about this every month that we're together."

"Okay," he nodded.

"Today is the first day of my period and it messes with my brain."

Neville's eyes widened, but he simply nodded. Lenore looked slightly uncomfortable, but she continued, "Like, really badly. I'm fine the other thirty or so days of the month, but the first day of my period, I get irrationally angry at everything. I'm always in the mood to attack."

"Oh," he said in slight shock.

"Yeah," she said. "So, I'm not cross with you. I'm cross with the world because it made me feel this pain."

Neville smiled briefly, then his face fell. "Does it hurt?"

"Could you not see me sweating in Potions?"

He tilted his head. "No!"

She groaned. "I was about to curl up and die. It hurt so bad. I had to sit down because it hurt my lower back so much. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is getting spasms down there. Like not inside in uterus. Not cramps. Like actual contractions in the vaginal canal."

His eyes widened even more as he involuntarily glanced down at her crotch. "Holy shit. That has to hurt."

"It does," she said. "I haven't felt one in a while so I'm probably about to. It literally feels like being electrocuted."

"I'm sorry," he said as his thumb stroked her hand. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, I'm fine. I've dealt with this once a month for the last almost five years, so I'm fine. I'll be fine tomorrow."

"I'm surprised you want to be here instead of laying down. I would take a nap if I were you."

"I wanted to lay down," she said. "But I wanted to be with you more."

His heart beat against his ribs. "Really?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "This sounds stupid, but I miss you."

"You miss me?" he asked, still astonished.

"Yeah. I don't know why. We just hung out Friday and Saturday night. But we didn't talk all Sunday or Monday and that was weird. Not even a hello. We just didn't run into each other. And I know that sounds clingy, but—"

"No!" he said at once. "No, I love it. Wow, you really like me."

Her eyes twinkled as she laughed. "What?"

"You do," he smiled. "Aw, Len, you fancy me."

"You know I do," she shook his arm in mild annoyance.

"I know but sometimes I forget."

"Me, too, honestly," she said. "Sometimes it feels like we're just friends. I think that's a good thing, though. That we're friends and a couple."

"I completely agree. Aw, but you fancy me. More than you let on."

"I know," she smiled before she leaned in to kiss him. "I should tell you more often."

"Tell me now."

She giggled and teased, "You are needy."

He cupped his hand around his ear. "I don't hear any kind words."

Another giggle from her before she kissed him. She moved her lips up his jaw to his ear, where she gently pecked his skin, then whispered in his ear, "I fancy you, Neville. You're the best boyfriend I could ever wish for. You are so good to me and I appreciate you for all that you are."

She kissed his lips as his insides reeled. She started to pull away, but he began to kiss her more frantically, so she stayed.

"You're so sweet," he murmured on her lips.

She smiled and kissed him once, then leaned away. "So, we came to talk nicknames."

"Okay," he laughed.

She clapped her hands together. "What do you want my pet name to be?"

"Ummm… I call you 'Len,' Doesn't that count?"

"Len is my name," she shook her head. "I mean like 'honey' or 'babe'— please never call me babe, I will vomit."

"I feel like you would vomit at any name like those," he grinned.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll shoot down anything you'd come up with."

He adjusted his body and faced her. "I'll try then."

He examined her for a few seconds, then said, "Lenny Lamb."

"STOP," she giggled. "That's awful. Creative, but awful. Oh my god, you obviously had that one planned, didn't you?"

"No," he flushed.

"Yes," she laughed. "I'll think about it. Try another."

"Honey bear?"

She gagged. "My dad calls my mom that."

"Darling?"

She pondered the name. "I like it, but it's not really a nickname, is it? It's like me saying you're my boyfriend. Like, you are my darling. It's just a fact."

He paused as his lips parted.

"What?" she asked.

"N-nothing," he stammered. "J-just— how you said that. It was so… cute."

"What?" she laughed.

He placed a hand over his heart. "'You are my darling. It's just a fact.' Merlin, you're going to kill me."

She beamed at his obvious anxiety and placed a kiss on his lips.

"Keep calling me 'darling,'" he said as she pulled away. "Even though that's not my official nickname."

"Slow down," she laughed as she slid her hands from his neck to his shoulders. "You still haven't found one for me."

"What about Chickadee?"

"Why are you picking such docile animals?" she questioned.

"I still like Lenny Lamb," he shrugged.

She groaned, but finished with a smile. "Alright. I'm fine with that. It's actually really original, so I don't feel as weird about it."

"Okay, that's decided, now are you going to call me?"

She squinted her eyes at him. "Old Man?"

"I'm younger than you."

"That's why it's funny."

"No," he shook his head. "Too close to a daddy complex."

Her voice echoed a slight scream. "Oh my god, ew. Never mind. Sweetie?"

"Isn't that the same as 'darling?'"

"You're right…. Sugar Lips. But only if you call me Sugar Tits."

He laughed along with her. "I will not be doing that."

"Snuggle Butt."

"You're not being serious with this," he chuckled as she bit her lip to stop laughing. "Something not weird, please."

"If you and Snape were dating, your couple name would be 'Neverus.'"

"Merlin H. Wizard," he coughed, "that's fucking terrifying."

"It sounds like 'never us,' so don't worry. It shouldn't happen."

"Merlin, Lenore, you're scaring me."

She giggled. "What does your name mean?"

"Like, literally translated? Neville means 'new town,' I think, and 'Longbottom' is like a valley."

She groaned. "I can't work with that. My name means 'light' and 'ruler of the home,' which would both be good options. Your name is a location. Like, 'Oh yeah, turn right at the new town and you'll be at the valley in a few kilometers.'"

"Well then think of location-type names."

She thought a moment, then grinned wickedly, "Comp Ass. Like compass."

"I don't think so," he laughed.

She thought another moment. "Can I call you Sweet Pea? It's a flower, for herbology, and you are sweet. And remember one time we got in a little spat because I said peas taste disgusting, but you like them?"

He seemed to be considering the idea. "I like it."

"You want to hear me test it out?"

He nodded. She kissed him on the lips, their tongues playing together for a few flicks. She pulled away and grinned at him. "I changed my mind, definitely do not call each other these names while we're snogging."

"Just romantic moments," he agreed.

She smiled at him with care and she practically hung on to her every movement. "I think I'm going to call you a bunch of different nicknames and see which one sticks. I might want 'Hotcakes.'"

"Hotcakes?"

"Because you've got a nice arse."

His face flushed ruby red.

"Just kidding!" she giggled. "Well you do have a nice arse, but that's not why. I just remember always eating pancakes as a child. I associate them with happy memories. And Hotcakes is cuter."

"W-whatever name you say, I'll respond to it," he smiled.

"Okay, ya fuckin' mingebag, you better."

"Brilliant," he said as he gave her a short peck on the lips. "That's right up there on my list with Sweet Pea."

"I hope so."

He kissed her neck and murmured, "It was kind of sexy, though."

"Oh?" she raised her eyebrows. "You like verbal abuse?"

"Err… when I know you're joking."

"Don't worry," she purred into his ear, "I'm always joking."

"I just assume you always are, otherwise you'd be a really mean person."

She gasped and leaned away.

"Sorry!" he said immediately.

"No!" she giggled. "It's funny. And true. I've just never heard you joke like that. You sounded like me."

He smiled. "I-I must be picking it up from you."

She kissed him again. "The other day I heard you say, 'trash' instead of 'rubbish' and I forgot to call you out for it. Sometimes I catch you saying American words now."

"I do not," he said as his eyes widened.

"You do! You said 'counterclockwise' the other day and you've picked up my use of the word 'hickey.'"

"You say things like me, too!" he argued. "I never heard you say 'gutted' until we started dating. And on the rare instances you stutter, you sound like me."

"Everyone sounds the same when they stutter," she rolled her eyes.

"No, it's different than when you would stutter before we were dating."

"Whatever," she laughed. "You're worse about it."

"It's not a competition."

"It

" _Sweet pea_ ," she smiled "shut up and snog me."

He scooted closer to her and she touched her lips to his. After a couple deep kisses, she whispered, "Remember when you were drunk and you told me I had great boobs?"

She leaned away to view his blush, which was in full-force.

"Y-yeah, I'm really sorry," he said sheepishly.

"But then you remember you told me how much you respected me?"

He raised his brow. "Wait. Did I?"

"That's the part you don't remember?" she laughed.

"I mean… I faintly remember thinking it. But I said it?"

"Yeah," she said as she kissed him. "That's why I like you. Because you can talk about my tits but I still know you genuinely respect and care about me."

"I do," he whispered on her lips. He placed a hand on the back of her head and said, "You mean the world to me and I want you to always feel appreciated and respected."

He deepened the kiss as soon as the last word exited his mouth, which clearly surprised her. She whimpered against his tongue and his stomach tied itself in a knot. Both of her hands wound their way to the back of his head and clutched patches of his hair. It did not take her long to fall into his movements. She climbed into his lap, sat on the ground inside his crossed legs, and wrapped her legs around his hips. His eyes nearly budged out of his head as she yanked him as close as possible to her body. He was leaning forward and hardly any part of their bodies did not touch. God, he loved her legs and here they were, wrapped around him, intertwined with him like a pretzel.

"Neville," she whispered as she sunk his fingertips against his scalp.

"Yeah?"

She did not speak, but instead she moved her arms to his back and held him close. That's when he realized she just liked saying his name. She moved her lips down to his neck and began unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. He pulled her onto his lap and she sat down on his legs as she went to work on his neck. Her lips devoured his skin and her hands held him steady. She moved to the crook of his neck, near the back of his jaw and he felt himself losing control.

"Ohhh."

The noise escaped his mouth before he would stop it and he immediately felt his face grow hot. However, it seemed to excite Lenore. Her fingers sunk into his back and her elbows clutched his ribs.

"I like arguing with you," she said out of nowhere.

"What?" he laughed with her.

"We have a good chemistry," she said as she moved to his jaw. "We play off each other well."

"Did that get you worked up?" he murmured. "Us arguing?"

"Fuck yes," she groaned.

He gave a short laugh. "Just don't make it a habit."

"Why, you got a problem with it?"

She leaned away to meet his eye and they laughed together.

"You're funny," he said.

She kissed his lips. "Bickering is different than arguing."

"I don't mind bickering. We—" He gasped as she sucked on the skin near his ear. "Ohhh, Lenore."

He made that same stupid sound as before and she laughed. "God, I love when you make noises."

She still kissed his jaw, before returning to his neck. Her lips and tongue gently worked at his skin until he lost his sense of surroundings. After a few minutes of him occasionally groaning, she pushed him on his back and moved to his lips as she straddled him.

"Fucking hell," he exhaled. "You realize we're in a hallway, right?"

She groaned. "We can go somewhere else."

Neville thought a moment. "I don't know where else."

Lenore bit her lip and pulled away to look into his eyes. "We could go to one of our rooms."

"I know my roommates are in there," Neville said. "And nobody's allowed in Slytherin."

"That's a load of rubbish," she waved her hand. "Other houses sneak in all the time."

Neville hesitated. "But we can't get up the girls staircase."

"I know how. Blair finally taught me."

"I… I've never been inside Slytherin," he said slowly. "But you have to promise we won't get caught."

"We won't," she said as she hopped up. He grabbed his hand and pulled him up. "I'm going to make you invisible."

She performed a spell that transformed him into a chameleon, blending in with his surroundings. Lenore held out her hand and he grabbed a single one of her fingers. Lenore took off towards Slytherin, walking fast and dragging him along.

"Are we in a hurry?" he asked.

"I'm in a hurry to snog you," she smiled back at him.

Neville laughed and then fell silent as they made their way towards Slytherin. Lenore hushed him as a reminder, whispered the password into the dungeon wall, which sprung to the side immediately. She clutched his hand tighter as she led him towards a staircase.

Slytherin Dungeon was just as ornate as he imagined it. Silver, green, and even gold lined nearly every object in the room. Mirrors and chandeliers hung everywhere. Everything seemed to have a reflective surface. It reminded Neville of an old-time bank, with grand ceilings and an open wrap-around second story balcony overlooking the common room.

Lenore whispered a spell and a short prayer, "please," at the bottom of the staircase. She started up the steps and whispered, "If you fall, don't make a noise."

But with carefully steps, they made it to the top of the stairs and she beamed. "Oh my god, it worked!"

Neville glanced around the balcony, which led into three hallways filled with dark brown doors. His feet crushed the plush green carpet underneath. Lenore carefully led him to a room towards the end of the farthest hallway. Luckily, they only ran into a pair of young looking girls who ignored Lenore.

She jiggled a doorknob and whispered, "Thank god."

She took out her key, pushed Neville inside, and then reached for a piece of pink parchment. She slid it halfway under the door and turned to face him once more.

"What does the paper do?" he asked as she removed the invisibility spell from his body.

"That's out signal that we're in here with a guy," she smiled. "But my roommates are all out tonight. Pansy and Blair are staying with Draco and Mallory tonight, Circe will probably find one, and Odette's having a sleepover with Cho. So we should be good."

"On a Tuesday night?"

"Yeah," she said. "Because we all have Alchemy first thing tomorrow, but the professor gave us the day off to study for the test Friday."

"She gave you the day off?"

"Yeah," Lenore nodded. "So our first class wouldn't be until eleven. We're supposed to use it to study, but that's not going to happen. Alchemy gets special perks because everyone thinks we're all smart. But jokes on them."

She glanced around the room. "You can see they've already packed up their makeup remover. It's nowhere in sight. Neither are any hairbrushes. Yep, they're all somewhere for the night."

"Wait, they're staying with boys? his eyes widened. "What about the bloke's roommates?"

Lenore shrugged. "They just draw the curtains and put silencing charms on. Obviously they don't have sex while the roommates are there, but they cuddle."

"That still seems… weird."

"I couldn't do it," she said. "I'm more private."

She clapped her hands together suddenly. "So! This is where I live."

Neville glanced around the room. The ceiling was made up of silver tin tile, the floor of white marble. Each bed was a polished dark brown wood, and their bedsheets were classic Slytherin green. Their room was not circular like his, but rather two beds each took a wall. A bathroom door was on the wall directly across from the front door, along with another bed.

"You have no windows," he said after a moment.

She nodded. "It's weird. It's like mood lighting. Somebody left the lights on, but if you turn them off, you can see up there—"

She pointed towards the crown molding, which Neville realized was not wood, but instead a small window roughy the height of a hand, which ran the entire length of the two walls.

"—that's lake water in those little windows. We're right under the lake. And it's enchanted to glow green at night. Here, let me turn off the light."

Lenore's wand stole the light from the lamps and sure enough, the top of the room emitted a soft green glow that was just enough light to see, but not enough to read or write.

"It's actually really pretty," he said. "I like it."

"Me too. By the way, this is my bed, in the corner by the other bed."

"Who's in the corner with you?" he asked.

"Pansy," she rolled her eyes. "Circe and I share this wall, Blair and Odette get that wall, and Pansy's on the wall with the bathroom by me."

"I bet she's claimed this corner to herself."

"Oh, trust me," she laughed, "she has. But I wouldn't want to be Odette, next to the bathroom door. I prefer having Pansy."

"I like how my room is laid out more," he commented. "This feels kind of awkward."

"It would be less weird if there were four or six to a room. Fives was poorly planned. I like your room slightly better, too."

"But now I get to see where you live," he grinned.

He took a seat on her trunk and she smiled. "I'm going to use the loo and I'll be right back."

He nodded. She closed the bathroom door and he glanced around the room. Then he decided he should be paying less attention to the room and more to her things. He stood from the trunk and his eyes flew to her dresser, which he had not yet noticed in the dim lighting. The flowers he had given her for their first date, the large white wildflowers, rested, alive, in a white bubbled planter on her dresser. She had changed the pot he gave her and combined the wildflowers from their first date with the pink roses he gave her to ask her out. The white and pink flowers sat in potting soil in a long, narrow while planter, shoved up against the back of her dresser.

He heard the bathroom door open and he turned to see her. "You kept the flowers."

"Of course I kept them," she smiled as she removed her shoes and socks and crawled across her bed.

"And you changed the planter."

"Yeah."

"You did that by yourself?"

"Neville," she laughed. "I did pass my Herbology O.W.L. with an Exceeds Expectations. And I'm not an idiot."

"Oh, yeah," he said. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to insinuate anything. You're so intelligent."

She smiled and he moved his eyes toward her. She slipped her arms inside her green jumper and then pulled it over her head, leaving her in just a loose black thank top that exposed her soft skin.

He audibly inhaled.

"What?" she giggled as she got on her knees and moved over toward him.

He still stared at her. "You're gorgeous."

"Mmmm," she said as she reach out for his sweater vest. Her fingers slipped all four buttons away from their matching holes and she pushed the material off his shoulders until the vest fell to the floor.

She sat back in her bed. "Come here."

Neville slipped his shoes and socks off and joined her in bed.

"Let's lay here a moment," she said. "This feels weirdly intimate and I'm uncomfortable."

Neville turned to meet her eyes and they both laughed.

"It is weird," he smiled. "Like… mood lighting. The sound of the water. Us taking clothes off. It's definitely strange."

Her eyes twinkled as she turned to the side and gave him a soft smile. His heart pinged as he recalled his earlier thought of the day— his thoughts about love. He smiled nervously back at her and said, "I'm going to use the loo, too."

"Okay," she laughed at his sudden change in subject. "I'll turn some of the lights back on."

He thanked her, visited the loo, and returned to a less sexily-lit, although still dim, room.

"That's less weird, isn't it?" she said as soon as she met his eye.

"Yes. Definitely. Less sex lighting, more comfortable."

She smiled as he crawled into her bed. He laid his head down on her pillow and said, "Your bed is not very comfortable."

"Why?"

"Your mattress is hard."

"Your mattress feel like I'm sinking."

"It's comforting."

"It's alarming."

He smiled at her and she returned the grin. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"I want a surprise," she said at once. "Nobody ever surprises me."

"I don't take you as the type to like surprises."

"I don't."

He squinted and she giggled. "But I want to see what you think I like."

A low noise of annoyance could be heard behind his closed lips. She tapped her foot to his and then left it touching his. "I could give you hints."

"Okay," he said as he glanced down at their intertwined feet. "Please do."

"I don't like being cold."

"Okay," he nodded.

"I don't like you spending money."

He glanced up at the ceiling. "…okay."

"I don't like physical activity."

He returned his questioning gaze to her eyes. "Is there anything you do like?"

"You."

Neville's stomach twisted as she grinned at him.

"But anyway—"

He interrupted her words with a powerful kiss, which she returned after a moment of shock. She scooted closer to him and closed the distance between their bodies. Her right hand held his jaw and his hand clutched the back of her head. Their kisses were slow and caring, full of skillful tongue flicks and gentle bites.

After a moment, she leaned away. She did not say anything, but instead she just stared into his eyes. Neville broke the silence by saying, "That was really lame."

She finally laughed and moved away from him slightly. "But you loved it."

"Yeah?" he asked, before kissing her soft lips.

"Yeah. Oh!" She leaned up on her elbow. "Speaking of love, I've decided what answer to give you!"

"Let's hear," he said as he mirrored her position.

"I've decided that I want to say it first. Maybe give me hints when you feel it, if you want, but I want to be the first one to say it, just so I don't leave you hanging. I mean, if you don't mind being spurned, say it whenever you want. But if you say 'I love you' and I don't feel the same, there is a one hundred per cent chance you're getting a 'That's good,' in reply."

He chuckled. "Okay. I'm fine with that."

"And if you say it and I don't feel it, that doesn't mean I won't ever feel it," she said. "Just give me time and patience. Also, I prefer the term, 'I'm in love with you,' to 'I love you' because I think there's a difference. I think 'I'm in love with you' means way more. And I know it's weird for me to be asking for the stronger term, but I want to be sure we're on the same page. 'I love you' doesn't mean as much to me. I say 'I love you' to friends or to my family. I want to look you in the eye and say, 'Neville… I'm in love with you.'"

His lips parted as a chill ran down his entire body. Even her just practicing the words caused him a flood of emotions. He loved Lenore, but he was not sure if he was in love with her. That would take even more soul searching for which he had not mentally prepared himself.

She asked, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes. Completely. I agree. I think 'I'm in love with you' means more. And I'll let you say it first. Unless I'm just dying to say it. Honestly, it will probably just slip out one day. But I will mean it. And I'm completely fine with you laughing at me or saying, 'No you aren't,' or whatever. It won't hurt my ego."

She smiled. "What ego? You have none."

"I… Well, not much of one, I guess. But I'm serious, when I start to feel it, I'll keep it to myself for a while to make sure. Then I'll probably just say it to you. Because Len, I don't think you're going to allow yourself to feel it until I say it."

She bit her cheek and stared into his eyes. "You're probably right."

"Okay," he nodded once. "So, I'll say it after I feel it for a while, then you can reject it, and then I won't say it again until you tell me first."

She laughed. "I guarantee that's how it will happen."

"I would bet all the family money on it."

She smiled. "Okay, good. We're on the same page. You say it after you've felt it for a while. Like a few weeks maybe. But what if I say it first?"

He took her hand. "Then I'll say, 'That's good.'"

She giggled and squeezed his fingers. "Wow thanks."

"No, I'll probably say it first. And if you say it first and I don't feel it, I'll let you know. But… Lenore…"

He opened his mouth and then closed it. "I really think… I more than fancy you."

He cringed as the words left his mouth. "I don't love you. I'm not in love with you. But… I will, eventually. Just getting that out there."

He raised his gaze to her face and she stared at him in shock.

A moment after the eyes met, she said simply, "That's good."

He exhaled his worry into amusement as she laughed. "Sorry," she said. "No, that's fine. It's honestly not so much you feeling it. It's me being scared that I can't feel the same way. Not about you. About anyone."

"Like, you're scared you can't be in love?"

She nodded. "Because… sometimes I swear I feel something. Like… I more than fancy you. But then I stop and I try to find flaws in you. And that's so unhealthy. So, so unhealthy. I push people away, Neville, and that scares me."

His mouth hung open as he scanned her face. "You try to find flaws in me?"

"If it helps, I never find any."

He smiled softly, but still worried. "Lenore, that really is… bad."

"I know," she whined. "I'm stopping. Honestly. I do it less every time. Last time I thought it, I didn't try to find any flaws. It just took practice. I'm getting better."

He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. "Good. How about you look for the good instead of the bad?"

She nodded. "That's a great idea."

He smiled. "Alright, sounds good. You're wonderful."

"You're wonderful, too," she grinned. "So how how about we make full use of this privacy?"

"Well, not full use…"

"You're right," she laughed. "I want you to kiss me slow and sweet, okay? Not like before when we were in a frenzy. We've never kissed like we have all the time in the world. And we do now."

"Well, we have until curfew. The prefects are out patrolling tonight, I heard Ron talk about it."

"An hour is all the time in the world when you're used to nothing," she smiled.

He returned the grin. "Anything is better than nothing."

"And it's nice to know we don't have to worry about people walking in."

"We can look as goofy as we want."

"I'm not thinking goofy," she said, "I'm thinking this."

She swung a knee over him and kissed his lips. Her body hovered over his and he gasped from shock. She pulled away and beamed.

"T-that's good, too," he said.

Her laugh consumed his brain and he found the courage to sink his fingertips into her hips. He held her steady over his body and she just looked at him.

"I'm still really mad about alchemy."

He laughed at her sudden change in topic. "What?"

"I failed a quiz last week."

"Len," he said seriously, "are you sure you don't need to study? I will help you study if—"

"No," she said, "I'm doing fine in the class. Somehow, I'm actually doing alright, I just keep failing things and that's weird for me. But she grades on a curve, so I'm passing above average."

"That's good," he said. "You need to study. I know you don't study, but maybe for this class, you do."

"Nah," she waved her hand. "It'll be fine."

He gave her a doubtful look but she still smiled. "You have no faith."

"I… I can't put my faith in something that you don't work at it."

She rolled her eyes. "I do work."

"You do," he said. "You just pretend not to so you can feel superior."

She crossed her arms and glared at him. He watched her a moment, noticing all the little details about her. Her dark eyebrows crinkled down, her melon-colored lips stuck out slightly more to the left, her butt sat back on his thighs. She really was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he decided to tell her, even if it made her angry.

"You're really pretty, you know?"

Her stern face softened as she blushed. "Thanks."

His pressed his fingers against her hips and smiled.

"Normally I would be mad if a bloke said that to me after he annoyed me, but I can tell you genuinely mean it."

"Yeah," he said immediately. "I'm not saying it so you won't be mad. I'm saying it because it's true. You can still be mad."

"I'm not mad," she said, before kissing his lips once. "It's a playful mad. Like a mild annoyance. But I'm not mad or annoyed at you. I'm mad or annoyed at your words."

He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "That's okay. I was teasing."

"I know," she smiled. "Besides, the words are true."

He stared at her a moment, then said, "Nah."

"Nah?"

"Yeah, nah," he said. "It's not so you feel superior. It's for you, so you can feel better about yourself. You don't care what other people think, you care what you think."

She kissed him again. "I do care what other people think, to a certain extent."

"Yeah, but you only care about certain people. I care what everyone thinks of me. You're able to say, 'Fuck that nobody, they don't matter.' I can't do that."

"You make me sound really mean," she giggled.

"No!" he said at once. "Sorry. It's a good thing. You can determine what and who affects you."

She nodded. "I care about what my friends and professors think, and what my sister thinks, and what you think."

"You care what I think?"

"Well yeah," she laughed. "I care if you think I'm mean or dumb or… ugly."

"You could never be any of those," he said at once. "Bloody hell, Lenore, never."

"I'm not trying to fish for compliments!" she said. "Those are just nagging thoughts sometimes."

"Well I'm still going to compliment you."

She beamed. "Okay. Lay it on me."

"You are the kindest, sweetest, most intelligent person I've ever met. You're funny and smart and I love your personality. And you are beautiful. All of you is so completely beautiful."

She smiled and covered his bottom lip in hers. "Thank you, sweet pea."

He laughed and so did she.

"I change my mind," she said. "I don't like that one. Thank you, hotcakes."

He kissed her once more. "You can call me whatever you want, as long as you call me."

"Fuck, Neville," she said on his lips. "I know I'm being really moody today, but you're being really, really smooth today."

"T-thanks."

She kissed him, but he tilted his head to say, "Just call me 'Fuck, Neville,' because that was incredible."

Her loud laugh travelled across his skin. "Oops."

"Definitely don't say 'oops.'"

She placed her lips on his neck and sucked on his skin. "How about you make me say it again?"

He blinked and his eyes nearly doubled in size. "W-what?"

"You know what I mean," she smiled against his neck.

He clutched her hips and she started working harder at the sweet spot on his neck. Her fingers undid the first two buttons of his shirts and she moved to his chest and collarbone.

"You always wear your shirt buttoned up to the neck," she commented.

"It looks weird if I don't."

She undid one more button and kissed even lower. "Sit up, please."

He obeyed and her lips never left his neck. Her hands began plucking his shirttails out of his trousers, which surprised him. When his shirt was completely free, she grasped his hips, then moved to his back. At once, he felt cold air hit his back. Her hand touched his bare back and he gasped once more.

"This is okay, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. G-go ahead."

At first, she stayed on his lower back, but when she grew braver, her hands moved everywhere. Finally, she sunk her fingertips into the fat on the back of his lower ribs, which he knew he should have appreciated, but it actually made him self-conscious. Her hands slid around to the front of his ribs and he immediately sucked his stomach in.

"Don't," she whispered.

He let go of his breath and she ran her fingers over his bare skin. He was still uncomfortable, especially when she her hands rested on the thickest part, his lower stomach.

"You have such a nice body," she said as she moved to his lips.

Before he could reply, her lips cut him off. When she moved to his jaw, he said, "T-t-thanks."

"What's wrong?" she leaned away a moment.

"What?"

"You're not kissing me back."

His lips parted. "Am I? Shit, sorry. I was just distracted."

"By what?"

"By… sucking in my stomach."

She watched him a moment, then kissed him. This time, he made sure to return her kisses. She moved to his jaw and said, "You're so fit, Neville. I bloody love your body. You are perfect."

The words slipped out before he could stop them. "E-even though I've got a stomach?"

"Especially your stomach," she said. "I have a stomach, too."

"N-no you don't."

She leaned away. "Yes, I do."

She pulled her hands out of his shirt and lifted up her own shirt. His eyes moved to her bare skin as she said, "There is no denying I have a stomach."

He still doubted her. She had an incredible waist, no matter what she thought.

"I-I like it, though," he said. "I like all of you."

She placed his hands on her bare hips, then reached back under his shirt. "And I like all of you."

He smiled as she dug her fingertips into his skin. He flipped her gently to the side and then crawled on top of her. She giggled as he kissed her lips.

"This is so much more comfortable than kneeling on the ground," he realized.

"I know!" she agreed as she jolted him. "It's so soft in bed."

"Even with your rock-hard mattress."

She laughed at his teasing. He kissed her again, then she took control and returned to his neck as he hovered over her. She hit one spot on his neck and he gasped. She stayed there a while, sucking and biting his skin until he was driven to near hysteria.

"Lenore," he moaned.

He felt her grin against his skin. "What happened to 'Lenny Lamb?'"

"Lenny Lamb wouldn't be making me feel this way," he exhaled. "Bloody hell."

"You like this?" she smiled once more.

He gripped her back tighter. "Love it."

"I thought you liked kissing my neck better," she said.

"I love both. But right now I want this."

She gently sunk her teeth into his skin and he groaned into her hair.

"Merlin," he whispered. "I can't stop talking."

"You are being talkative," she giggled. "For you, at least."

"I like talking to you." He gasped as she massaged her fingers against his scalp. "Lenore, that feels incredible."

She kept up her motions, her fingers causing tingles to run down his torso until his entire body shivered once.

"I want to show you how much I care about you," she murmured. "Just incase I ever don't show it."

"You show it," he groaned. "I know it."

"Good," she whispered as she clutched his head tighter.

"Lenore," he sighed, "you are bloody amazing. Oh Merlin, this… this is the best you've ever kissed my neck."

He adjusted his body over her and when he did, she accidentally moved at the same time. His hips dug into her center and she moaned, which caused his heart to palpitate through his entire body.

"Neville," she exhaled. "Look at the clock. What time is it?"

Her change in subject surprised him, but she kept up the kisses that muddled his brain. He glanced at the clock on her dresser. "Nine-forty."

"Okay," she said. "I'm going to slow down so we can lay here a minute before you have to go."

"Alright," he replied.

She gave the crook of his neck a couple more sucks, before she moved to his jaw and finally his lips. Her hands rubbed his back reassuringly, before she pulled away to smile at him. He kissed her forehead, then laid down next to her.

She curled closer to him and buried her face in his chest. His eyes shut from shock as he inhaled sharply. Her right hand clutched the front of his shirt and he placed his arm around her back, holding her close.

"I like being this close to you," she whispered.

"I-I-I do, too."

She tiled her face up and met his eyes. Her lips leaned into his, but she did not kiss him yet. Their faces pressed together— her nose in his cheek, his forehead on her brow— but her lips did not touch his. He exhaled his nerves and her lips just barely etched his, not moving, simply touching. Her hand moved from his chest to his hair and she touched their lips together softly once more, still not moving.

The intimacy of the move made Neville's entire body tingle. She smiled and whispered, "Wow."

"Yeah," he agreed.

She brushed his lips again, then went in for a stronger kiss. He tried his best to keep his kisses light and gentle, but she was bloody amazing with her tongue.

"We've never kissed laying down like this."

Her teeth etched his bottom lip before he said, "Nope."

She leaned away and placed her face against his shirt once more. "You've got to get going. Curfew is soon."

He kissed her forehead. "Alright. Next time I see you, you'll be seventeen."

She smiled. "You definitely see me on Wednesdays."

"Yeah but we don't have classes together."

She sat up and he followed her upright. She shook her head and laughed. "You're a baby, you know that?"

"What?" he chuckled.

"You're so much younger than me. Do you realize that?"

"I'm… like… eight months younger than you."

"Practically a child," she sighed dramatically.

He laughed and kissed her once.

"Don't kiss me," she pulled away. "I'm not a pedophile."

"Lenore!" He nudged her with his shoulder as she giggled and kissed him again. She pushed him upright and off the bed so he could put on his jumper vest and shoes. He began tucking his shirt into his trousers as Lenore sat cross-legged on her bed.

"You are really fit, you know?"

He turned around to see her staring intently at him. His heart panged as he swung his arms into his jumper vest.

"T-thanks," he stammered with a smile.

"Button your shirt," she commanded.

He glanced down and realized he had forgotten to button it. "Don't you want it open?"

She grinned. "Nah. You don't look like you with it open."

He nodded. "I don't feel like me with it open."

Lenore stood up from her bed and reached for his shirt buttons. Her nimble fingers slipped the three buttons into each hole as Neville stared down at her, feeling his entire body and soul wanting to be near her. He did love her. So maybe he was not "in love" with her, but he loved her, with all of his being.

She straightened his vest and smoothed the hem over his shirt, then met his eye. Her green eyes lingered on his for a while. He wanted to say something, but he had no idea what. His mind was blank. Finally, she stood on her tip-toes, kissed him softly on the lips, then rested back on flat feet.

"I can walk you back to Gryffindor if you want," she offered.

"I don't want to make you late for curfew," he shook his head. "Just get me out the entrance."

 **Lenore's POV**

Neville was right. They ended up not seeing each other at all on Wednesday, not even a hello or a view of each other at meals. That was not unusual. They each had their own lives and they did not need to see each other every day anyway. Today, however, Lenore woke up to Odette pulling back her bed curtain's shouting, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Her other roommates all began yelling their birthday cheers as Lenore sat up and beamed. "Thanks!"

Even Pansy wished her a happy birthday before exiting the dormitory early, like usual.

"So what do you have planned for today?" Blair asked as the girls applied their makeup.

"No much," she replied. "Breakfast with my sister and Alicia and Leanne, lunch with you all, and then I think dinner with Neville but he hasn't told me his plans."

"That sounds fun!" Odette grinned, alone with the other roommates.

Lenore smiled shyly and hurried down to breakfast. Before she could even get past the door of the Great Hall, she spotted Neville waiting in the corridor for her.

His brilliant smile greeted her and he gave her a short peck on the lips. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks!" she beamed.

"How is it so far?"

"Pretty… average," she said. "Just a normal day so far. What are we doing today?"

"You'll see," he said.

"Neville, I need like a general time—"

He kissed her again. "Dinner."

"Alright," she smiled. "Sounds good."

He squeezed her against his body. "I know you're sitting with your friends. I'll see you in class, okay?"

"Alright," she said, before kissing his cheek.

So, she ate her usual breakfast with Alicia and Leanne. It was odd not having Katie to celebrate with, but Margaux joined the group and temporarily distracted the girls from missing Katie. Lenore did not get the chance to speak to Neville in either of their morning classes together, but she did have fun with Odette and their Ravenclaw friends in Astronomy. Lunch was spent with her roommates, which was fun and unusual for Lenore, who normally ate with Gryffindors. In Potions class, she, Odette, Lavender and Pavarti gossiped like no end and laughed at their love lives. Lavender was not as annoying or dizzy as people made her out to be. Sure, she was obsessed with Ron, but she was still smart and told funny stories, so Lenore considered her a school friend.

Towards the end of Potions class, Neville walked up to her table.

"Hi!" Odette grinned. "Come to flirt?"

Pavarti and Lavender snickered, which caused Neville's cheeks to flush.

"N-no," he said shyly. "H-hi."

The other girls gave a friendly hello as Lenore smiled and took his hand to reassure him. "How can I help you?"

"I-I just wanted to let you know that you should meet me outside the Great Hall before dinner, because we're not eating in there."

"No?" Lenore raised her eyebrows.

"Nope."

She squeezed his hand. "Alright. I can do that."

He grinned and said, "O-okay, see you then."

"See ya," she said as she let go of his hand.

He returned to his table and Lavender spoke up. "Have you two done it yet?"

"No!" Lenore laughed. "Jeez, at least let him get out of earshot."

"I did!"

"Have you done with with Ron yet?" asked Odette.

Lavender nodded. "Yep."

Lenore cringed. "Okay, this is too much information."

"Why?" Lavender asked.

"Because it's weird, going into Ron's room all the time with Neville and knowing you two have done stuff in the bed right next to his."

Lavender laughed with Lenore. "Face the facts, girly."

"Was he a virgin?" Odette asked.

"For sure," Lavender said.

Lenore hesitated. "So how was it?"

Lavender's head bounced side to side and she said dreamily, "He gets better every time."

Pavarti offered up, "He's never made her finish, if that's what you're asking."

"No," Lavender glared, "but it's okay. He tries."

Lenore glanced across the room towards Ron and she immediately cringed. "Still weird. I just always think of him as eleven or twelve."

"Don't you think about everyone that way, then?" Lavender asked. "What's stopping you from thinking of Neville as eleven?"

She shrugged. "He's just… he's really old, emotionally. Does that make sense? He's seen some shit and because of that, sometimes I actually forget he's younger than me. Ron's seen stuff, too, though. So, I don't know."

Lavender nodded. "He tells me about some of the stuff he's seen. Like the thing last June when they went to the Ministry. I want to cry every time he talks about it. It sounds awful."

Neville never talked about the battle to Lenore. "He talks to you about that?"

"Yeah," she said. "It honestly sounds horrifying. He says he has nightmares sometimes. I'm sure you hear it from Neville."

"No," Lenore said softly. She glanced over to Neville, who sat on a lab stool across the room, stirring a potion as Dean and Seamus bickered. "He's never mentioned it at all. Ever."

Lavender's eyes grew wide. "Maybe he processes it differently. But Ron saw some real shit. He saw someone lose a leg. He saw Sirius Black die and Hermione nearly die and Neville stabbed someone in the eye. Did you know that?"

Lenore's mouth fell open. "What?"

"Yep. Stabbed a death eater right in the eye with a wand. The bloke lost his eye apparently. Ron saw him bleeding all over the place."

Lenore stared at Neville, who went about his daily business like he always did. This kid made someone lose their eye. Of course it was justified, but…

Lavender continued, "Neville's nose was practically on his cheekbone, according to Ron. They smashed him up pretty good. Ron wasn't that hurt, but apparently Neville was. So I bet he's seen even more than Ron."

Lenore nodded, then returned her gaze to Neville. "God, he never tells me any of that."

"Oh," Lavender cringed. "Maybe he's in denial. Or he doesn't want to burden you with it. Either way, you could ask him about it."

Lenore nodded as she still stared at Neville. He had seen and done more than she had previously thought. He probably saw Sirius Black die as well, if not more people at least get badly injured. You don't just forget about things like that.

As Slughorn dismissed the class, Lenore hurried back to her dormitory to get ready for dinner with Neville at seven. Still, she could not shake the thoughts from her head. Neville stabbed someone in the eye. She had never even seen him kill a bug. He was so gentle, all the time. He never touched her roughly, or gripped objects with force, or moved in violent jerks, but he had stabbed a man through the eye.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up at once. She was five minutes late to meet the bloke. She practically ran from Slytherin towards the Great Hall and he beamed as he saw her.

"You look so gorgeous," he said before kissing her. "Happy birthday, Lenny Lamb."

"Ew," she laughed. "Thank you!"

"How's your day been so far?"

"Really great!"

He took her hand and she glanced down at it. He had used that hand to shove a wand through a stranger's eye socket. The thought caused a chill to run down her spine, but she shook the thought away.

"We're going down by the lake," he said, "but I do have a surprise. Also, I'm putting a heating charm over us so you don't start shivering like always."

She smiled as he encapsulated her body in warmth. He led her down towards the lake, chatting about nothing in particular, until he stopped and pointed towards the sky. "Look at the ducks."

She peered up and watched as an entire flock of ducks flew overhead in their classic V-shape. Probably about a hundred birds filled out the shape. Lenore placed her hands on his waist and he turned back to her with a smile.

She could not take it anymore. She needed to ask him.

"Hey. You've stabbed someone in the eye?"

Well, that was a shitty way to start the conversation.

A look of shock and fear swept over his face. She had expected him to be confused. To tell her it was a lie, an outrageous claim, but he knew exactly what she was referring to. "W-what?"

"At the Department of Mysteries. A Death Eater lost his eye?"

Gradually, Neville nodded. "Y-yeah."

"Holy shit," she exhaled. "Why?"

"H-he… was trying to g-grab Harry."

Lenore still stared at him, but his face was not blank, emotionless. "Are you okay? Like mentally. Does that hurt you?"

His lips parted, but he kept his eyes steady on hers. She could tell he was trying to think of a good answer, but he finally decided to tell the truth. "Y-yes."

"Yes, you're okay or yes it hurts you?"

"I… I mean… both. I needed to do it or he would have killed us. B-but, I do think about it, like s-sometimes I just remember all the… blood."

All she could do was look at him. "What else did you see?"

"I… I don't know." His eyes darted everywhere. "Lenore, don't you just want to celebrate your birthday?"

"No," she shook her head. "I want to know."

"O-okay," he nearly whispered. "So… you know about my nose. How it was broken?"

"Lavender said it was nearly on your cheekbone."

Realization crossed his face. "That's where this came from!"

"She told me about it today, because she said Ron has nightmares. She wondered if you did and I said we've never even talked about the battle."

He shook his head. "S-sorry. I-I just don't like worrying you."

"Don't apologize," she said. "But also, you can tell me anything."

"W-well, we weren't together when I really thought I should tell you."

"What?" she asked.

"In the hospital. When you came to visit. I only told you about my nose. I didn't show you my cut. I-I'm honestly surprised you didn't feel it when you had your hands up my shirt this week. You must have just missed it."

"Missed what?"

He hesitated for a long time. Finally, he asked, "Do you want to see?"

"Yes!" she said at once.

"O-okay. B-but d-don't look at m-my body, j-just the scar."

"Okay, I promise," she said. "But Neville, you've got a great body."

He smiled faintly, then began untucking his shirt from his waistband. He lifted up his shirt to reveal his left ribs, but carefully concealing his stomach. She craned her head over to view his scar for the first time and her mouth tumbled open. It was fairly large for a wound, maybe ten centimeters. A thin red cut sat in the middle of a meandering white line. It was wide and shallow, reminding Lenore of a river viewed from above.

"Neville," she whispered as she touched a hand to his skin just below the scar. "You never told me about something this bad."

"S-sorry. I-I didn't want to worry you that day. You already looked like a bundle of nerves and the cut was so ugly. Much worse than it is now."

"Does it hurt?" she asked as her finger trailed the edge of the scar.

"Not really. Just when something hits it really hard or if I stretch weird."

"Can I touch it?"

He nodded. Her hand moved towards the slight scab and she gently fingered it as Neville bit his lip. Her two fingers started the the top of his scar, separated to trace it on either side, and rejoined at the bottom. "What exactly happened?"

He cringed. "I… I don't exactly know, to be honest. The Death Eaters, they don't have to say their spells out loud. And even if they did, there was so much noise, I wouldn't be able to tell which one did it. It bled a lot, though. That's why it's so deep. The spell was like a knife, almost exactly replicating the effects of a knife wound. That's what Madam Pomphrey said, at least."

Lenore nodded. "Jesus, Neville. It looked worse than this before?"

"Way worse," he said quietly. "It's just now starting to blend in. But the healer said it will always be there. The red line will go away, but the texture around it is always going to be different than the rest of my skin."

She cupped her hand around his scar and then looked into his eyes. "You're so brave."

"Oh." He raised his brow. "I-I'm really not."

"You are," she whispered. "Holy shit, Neville, you are honestly a hero."

His face fell. "Lenore, I need to tell you something else."

"Go ahead," she said gently. Her other ran wound its way into his shirt and she held his bare ribs. He placed his hands on her back.

"So… I've told you that there's a prophecy. The one about the boy born at the end of July whose parents defy Voldemort three times?"

Lenore nodded.

"Yeah. W-well, this prophecy was stored in a… I guess it was a crystal ball. You Know Who thought it contained the secret to killing Harry. But it also contained more information than we know. I-If we had it, we would know how to defeat You Know Who. If he got it, he would know how to defeat Harry."

"So who got it?"

"I… I accidentally smashed it."

Her eyes doubled in size. "What?"

"I-it fell out of my pocket a-and I ruined it. I-if I hadn't done that, w-we would know how to defeat You Know Who."

She thought a moment. "Or he would have known how to defeat us."

Neville shook his head. "I had it. The Order was already there. I've thought this through a million times. If I hadn't smashed it, we would have the prophecy and a way to defeat You Know Who."

She was quiet. "Neville, honey, it's okay. It was an accident."

"I know," he said softly. "I'm just so clumsy all the time."

She gripped his skin between her fingers. "It's okay. It's not your fault. We can still defeat him."

"B-but it would have been so much easier if we knew how."

She slid her hands around to his back and buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry. I know you feel awful."

"I-I'm just tired of messing everything up."

"You don't mess everything up," she said gently.

"I do."

"You don't mess up in Herbology. Or being nice to people, you're always consistent there. And being brave and helpful. And you're not messing up this relationship."

"I am literally standing here messing up your birthday."

"No!" She moved her hands to his cheeks and pushed his hair away from his face. "Neville, you are going to make my birthday wonderful. It's already wonderful just being with you. I love being around you, even if we're not exactly celebrating right now. I want to make sure you are okay. If you ever have nightmares, like Ron does, let me know. I want to help you anyway I can."

"You already do," he exhaled.

"I do?"

He nodded. "I… I do have nightmares. I-it was worse at the beginning of the summer. A-and I'm not sure if it's getting better because of time or… because of you."

She slid her hands down to his shoulders. "What am I doing?"

"J-just being you," he nearly whispered. "Y-you make me realize how happy I can be."

"Nev…" she pouted. She moved her hands to his neck and began massaging his tense muscles. "Are the nightmares really getting better? How bad were they?"

His fingers began playing with the shirt material on her back, most likely out of nervousness. His voice was lower than a whisper. "A-at the beginning, I would get them every night. Every single night, for about three weeks. I-I didn't get much sleep a-and… I was really lonely. T-that's what made it hard, too. Not being around other people. The only people who understood were the people I went with and quite honestly I'm not friends with any of them. I guess I'm kind of friends with Luna and Ginny, but… L-luna is really nice, but she can be difficult to talk to. A-and Ginny.. I don't know. I just always felt something was off about her and now I see it when she's around Dean. S-so, I never told anybody what was wrong."

"You didn't tell your grandmother about it?"

"How could I?" he exhaled. "She kept going on and on, telling the relatives how brave I was, but Lenore, I don't feel brave. I might have been brave in the moment, but I'm not brave in my nightmares. You don't realize how hard it is to spend a day hearing your grandmother talk about how brave you are, but then be scared to go to sleep that same night. I… I've never been that sad in my life, Len. I-I honestly don't know how I woke up every day and dealt with it."

"How long did you feel like that?" she whispered.

"From the battle until a couple weeks after I called you."

"You felt like that when we had dinner at Mrs. Dubinsky's?"

He nodded. "I wasn't sleeping. A-and then you came over and you started crying and… Lenore, as soon as you left, I sobbed."

She gasped.

"Merlin, this is embarrassing. I'm just going to spill everything, okay? Please don't think I'm weird."

"Never," she assured him.

He smiled faintly. "When you left for the day, I went home, laid on my bed and absolutely sobbed. I've never cried like that in my life. Ever. I cry, but it's more like tearing up. I have no recollection of sobbing before or since that day, even when I was a little kid. Everything just hit me at once and I couldn't handle it anymore. I… I felt so alone. I… Lenore… I considered hurting myself."

Her lips parted and she could feel tears well up in her eyes.

"I didn't," he breathed. "And I'm so glad I didn't because it only got better from there. The nightmares slowly became less frequent. It hurt less. And then you came over and started crying about your friend and… Len, I don't want you to think I liked seeing you sad. I didn't. It nearly killed me. But…"

Tears began falling from his eyes. His voice broke as he said, "I didn't feel alone anymore."

Her lips parted as she stared into his hazel eyes. His lips quavered as he attempted to control his emotions.

"And I don't feel alone now. Not just because of you. I don't want to put this all on you because it's not. I'm not alone now because I have Dean and Seamus a-and Harry and I have started talking a little and Luna understands and I've got all my friends here and I know everyone is going through their own struggles, even if I can't see them. You didn't cure me. But you showed me how to cure myself."

Lenore sunk her fingers into his skin and kissed his lips, long and deep as she tasted salt on his skin. Tears flowed down both their faces as she wound her hands up to his hair and clutched him even tighter.

"Neville, I'm so glad you're my boyfriend," she whispered. "I care about you more than you know. I… I just really like you."

She ended her last sentence with a whimper and he kissed her once more.

"That's why I-I sometimes act scared you don't fancy me," he said. "Or no. No. What I'm scared of is how much you mean to me. Not as a romantic partner, but as a friend and as someone who got me through the worst period of my life. Lenore, i-if I ever act overly-attached or emotional it's because I appreciate everything you've done for me. It's not because I'm obsessed with you, it's because I'm grateful for you."

She cupped his jaw. "I'm grateful for you, too. This summer was the hardest of my life, too, but you made me feel better. You understood how I felt and you didn't try to push me. You are a great boyfriend, Nev, but most importantly, you're a great friend."

"You, too."

She smiled and moved her hands from his face to wipe her tears. She let out a small laugh. "I hate crying."

He brushed her hair out of her face and whispered, "I know. I'm sorry."

"No," she shook her head. "And… Neville, I'm so glad you didn't hurt yourself."

"Me, too," he breathed.

"Have you had suicidal thoughts before or since?"

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not sure if it was suicidal thoughts. I'm sure it could have turned into that, but I just wanted to hurt myself, not kill myself. I… I picked up my wand and I tried to think of spells that would hurt just enough to distract me from the inner pain. But I threw the wand down when I realized what I was doing. A-and I kept thinking about doing it. I-I guess I thought about s-suicide, b-but I don't think I ever considered it an option."

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his soft chest. He nuzzled his head next to hers and held her tight.

"Nev," she whispered, "I want you to know that I'm always here for you. Always. Even when we break up, I'm—"

"'When?'" he interrupted.

She pulled away to look at him. "I mean… do you expect us to get married?"

"I… I don't know. I don't expect it. B-but I assumed it was on the table."

She scanned his eyes. "I guess it is, yeah. But the chance is… that doesn't always happen. Look, I fancy you. I want to love you and I want to be with you for as long as I love you and you love me. All I'm trying to say is, no matter what happens to us, good or bad, I am here for you and I will always be your friend."

He nodded. "I understand. Thank you. Really, thank you. You… you're my best friend, honestly."

"Really?" she raised her eyebrows.

"I think so. I tell you everything. I tell you things I don't even tell Dean and Seamus."

She stroked his back. "I think you're my best friend, in a way completely different than Katie and my sister. I tell you things I don't tell them. I feel like I'm cheating on Katie by calling you my best friend, but… you are. You're more than a best friend. You're… a partner."

He kissed her and allowed himself to sink into her movements.

"God," he murmured between kisses, "I'm so lucky."

"Why?" she giggled.

"Because I have you."

She clutched him tighter and kissed him some more, her hands winding all over his back.

"Okay," he pulled away. "I will talk about this any other time you want, but today is your birthday. We're going to have fun."

"No more crying?"

He laughed. "Hopefully."

She kissed him one more time, then pointed to the briefcase said, "Alright, so I assume there's dinner in there?"

"You're right."

He raised his wand and the bag flew open. With a few flicks of the wrist, a small white tent was set up on the shore of the lake and Lenore gasped as food flew out of the briefcase and into the tent.

"Holy shit," she said.

He turned to her and smiled. After a few more spells, he opened the door of the tent and she climbed inside around the food. The tent was larger inside than it was outside and it was quite warm and cozy. The walls were white but the top of the tent was clear, so the starry sky could clearly be seen. On the floor was a red and white checkered blanket and multiple pillows. The ground was not hard like dirt, but instead felt more like a firm mattress. Food floated on the center of the cushioned floor, as not to spill. The menu appeared to be pizza and sparking grape juice.

"Neville!" she gasped. She clapped a hand over her mouth as he zipped the tent up behind them.

"Y-you're okay with this?"

"Nev!" She leaned over and kissed him. "You are so sweet. You did all this for me!"

He smiled as she reached for the bottle of sparking grape juice. "I'm dying of thirst, sorry to interrupt my fawning," she said.

He held out two wine glasses as she poured the liquid into the cups. With a cheers, she gulped down a glasses, poured herself another, and reached for a slice of pizza.

"This is really the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she said.

"Nah," he said. "It wasn't any effort at all."

"Such a liar," she grinned as she bit into her food.

"I-it really wasn't."

"Brag on yourself a little," she urged him. "Let me hear you brag."

"Er— well… I had to convice house elves to give me the drinks."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The pizza is just from dinner tonight. That wasn't hard. This tent is Seamus's. That's literally all this is."

"I love it," she smiled. "Now brag on yourself."

"On myself?"

"Talk about how you're doing in school. Only good things."

"I'm passing all my class so far. I'm actually doing better than I expected. I think I'm slowly getting better at Potions."

"Defense!" she said at once. "Holy shit, you're so good at Defense now! I think it's your new wand."

"I-I think that's helping me in a lot of classes."

"So, there was a silver lining to the battle."

He met her eyes and she thought for a split second that she had upset him, until he laughed. "God, Len, that's dark."

"I know," she giggled. "But it's true."

"It is, yeah."

The pair carried on like that, munching on pizza and discussing their lives. Lenore had never felt this close to a person in her life. Everything she said, Neville had a witty or interesting reply and she countered his words with equally witty remarks. Conversation bounced and flowed until finally Lenore collapse against the soft floor in a fit of giggles. Neville laid down next to her and the pair silently watched the stars through the trees.

"I hate this thing," Lenore muttered as she unhooked her bra.

Neville watched she she shimmied her bra out of her shirt without exposing any skin. She tossed her bra to the corner of the tent and he laughed. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, before she opened her eyes and looked up at the stars.

"I had a really good birthday," she said.

"Really?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes! It was definitely one of the best."

"Just how shitty have you birthdays been?"

She giggled. "Pretty shitty. But this one wasn't."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Not even the tiniest bit."

He smiled and she curled closer to him, so that their shoulders touched. After a few minutes of relaxed silence, she flipped on her side and backed her body into his. Her bum touched his hip and she knew she was making him nervous. He placed a hand on her shoulder and flipped onto his side as well. She could tell he was deciding how close to get to her, so she made the move herself. She slid back, so that her body fit in all the crooks of his and she heard him inhale sharply. She squeezed his hand, then closed her eyes and remained silent. Her eyelids fluttered until she finally gave in to total relaxation.

After what felt like minutes, she opened her eyes to view a warm yellow glow.

Sunrise.

"Neville!" she gasped. She sat up immediately, reached for his shoulder and shook him. "Neville!"

He stirred from his sleep and looked up at her.

"It's morning!" she hissed. "We slept out here!"

Neville bolted upright. "What time is it?"

She grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. "Six!"

He breathed a sign of relief. "At least we're not late for classes."

She nodded. "Thank god. I thought it was later than that. Sorry to wake you."

"No," he shook his head. "No, you're good."

After a moment of silence, he said. "I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

He hesitated. "To… to use the loo."

"Outside?"

"Y-yeah."

"That's not fair!" she argued.

He looked at her. "What?"

"I have to go, too."

"So… go outside, too? Nothing is stopping you?"

She stared at him. "Fine. Hurry up and come back so I can."

"Okay," he said. "You can even use one of the napkins as toilet paper."

"You're so generous."

He smiled as he exited the tent. After a few moments, he returned and she left. When she came back, he said, "Wow, that was romantic."

She plopped down beside him. "What would have been romantic is you letting me go first."

"I… I really had to go."

"And you thought I was just going out there for fun?"

"Sorry," he laughed. "Feeling better now?"

"Mmm, wow, thanks for asking, you prat."

He kissed her cheek. "You're very welcome."

She finally laughed and settled back against the ground. "I can't believe I fell asleep in a bra."

He instinctively glanced down at her chest, then caught himself and returned to her eyes. "What?"

"Wait!" she touched a hand to her chest. "Where's my bra?"

"You unhooked it last night. Remember? You tore it off the second we laid down."

"Ohhh yeah," she smiled. "Ha. Oops."

"Are you okay?" he laughed. "You're being ditzy."

"Neville," she said at once. "We slept together."

"Mmm, I don't know about that choice of wor—"

"Shut up!" she laughed. "You know what I mean. Unless I forgot about that, too."

"I hope not. But yeah, we slept next to each other. That was nice."

"Yay," she smiled. "I liked it."

He grinned. "Me too."

"I'm going to be in so much trouble with Pansy. And they're all going to think we actually slept together."

He glanced at his watch. "There's still time to prove them right."

She reached up and punched his arm as she giggled.

"Ow!" he laughed. "Okay, maybe not."

"Oh, there's time," she said. "Have we got thirty seconds?"

"Thirty is pretty optimistic at this point," he smiled.

She laughed. "I hate you."

Neville stared at her as she smiled.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he shook his head.

"No," she argued. "Not nothing."

"I just… I'm thinking about how you use 'I hate you' as a term of endearment. It's like your version of 'I love you.'"

She paused a moment. "You're right, in a way. In a very loose sense of the word. Not 'I love you' but more 'I'm really comfortable around you and I want us to be close.'"

"Okay," he beamed as he laid down and scooted closer to her.

She giggled and kissed his lips. "You actually are very romantic."

"I better be romantic to make up for the future thirty seconds of sex."

She was now laughing even harder at him, which she could tell warmed his heart. He intertwined his fingers with hers and smiled as he said, "Happy birthday, Len."

"It's not my birthday anymore."

"Happy Friday, Len."

She beamed as she gave his hand a giddy squeeze.


	33. Chapter 33: The Newlywed Game

**Thanks to xxxBeautifulxxxDreamerxxx and Motionless666 for the reviews! And thank you to everyone who has been reading! Remember, this chapter contains references to sexual assault, but it is the beginning of the healing process. The next chapter or two will be more Margaux/Dean. Leave a review! xx.**

"Are you excited?"

Margaux grinned as Dean Thomas walked with her toward the Gryffindor common room. The pair had just returned from their Saturday activities. Margaux and Derek Davies had ran around outside in the snow, making snow angels and pelting each other with snowballs. Dean had been quietly reading in the library, sans Ginny.

"I'm… Yeah," he nodded.

As he cringed, Margaux's face fell. "You're not excited for the Newlywed Game?"

"Well…" The boy shrugged. "I'm here, aren't I?"

She smiled brightly. "I guess that's enough."

"Only because Ginny made me," he clarified. "I wouldn't do this if she wasn't making me."

"You don't like playing games like this?"

"No! I do, but…"

Dean trailed off and stared at the ground.

Margaux frowned. She had not seen Dean smile in a long time. Not even a small grin. This was the first time they had talked in nearly a week and she knew he was only talking to her because Ginny was not around. Margaux and Ginny had not spoken in nearly a month. Not since she called Margaux fat and accused her of trying to steal Dean.

Dean smiled fainted at her, which surprised her. "You look miserable," he said.

"Look at yourself," she laughed weakly.

She could see the amusement twinkle in his eyes, but the sadness took over once more. She patted his back once. "Kick ass, Dean. You and Ginny could win."

"Ha!" he finally grinned. "Yeah, right."

"Just try," she said.

"I will," he nodded. "Thanks for the support."

She grinned and opened the door to the common room for him. Within seconds of entering the room, she heard Ginny's voice screech, "You're late!"

Dean's face fell and Margaux moved her eyes from Dean to Ginny. Ginny glared at her with red hot daggers. "Hello, Margaux. What are you two doing together?"

"We… we just ran into each other on our way here," she said. "Derek went into Ravenclaw to change before he came here and Dean exited the library in the same hallway, so we walked here together."

"Mmm," Ginny sneered. "Okay, that's nice."

It wasn't "nice" and Margaux knew it by her inflection. Ginny did not even try to hide her territorial jealousy anymore and Dean did not try to fight it. He still had not broken up with Ginny, despite Margaux's suggestion to do so. She knew plenty of people were telling Dean to break up with Ginny, but he seemed scared. At this point, Ginny was clearly abusing him. Margaux could not take seeing him sad anymore. She decided in the moment to convince Lenore and Neville to help her stage an intervention for Dean in the next week.

"Little Henry!"

Margaux turned and saw Lenore's roommate, Circe Defleur, flounce towards her, her full lilac hair bouncing with each step. Circe smiled and thrust a stack of cards in Margaux's hand.

"That's what you'll be reading today!" she said. "Thank you for doing this!"

"Yeah!" Margaux nodded. "No problem. Why aren't you doing it, though? Or one of the other roommates?"

"That would be too obvious to Blair," Circe whispered. "We're trying to convince her to prolong her engagement. She told me the other day she may even get married during the holiday break, so we're trying to show her she needs to know more about Mal before she marries him."

"They've been dating for like three years, right?"

"Yeah," Circe nodded, "but they don't know how to do adult things and— I don't know, actually. I was onboard with the engagement if they got married in summer. But once she said winter break, Pansy convinced me to write the questions."

Margaux glanced around. The room was not crowded, but quite a few Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had gathered to watch this game. Even a few of Mallory's Slytherin buddies showed up, looking disdainfully around the brightly decorated Gryffindor common room. "Where is Pansy, anyway? And Lenore?"

"Bickering over there," Circe pointed.

Sure enough, behind the group of large Slytherin men, Margaux spotted the top of Neville's head, and finally Lenore's face between their shoulders. She said goodbye and thanks to Circe, then headed over towards her sister. As she grew closer, she noticed how completely uncomfortable Neville looked.

"Hush," she heard Lenore tell Pansy, "you need to get your panties out of a twist."

"My panties are looser than yours," Pansy laughed.

Lenore reluctantly smiled, then said, "Alright, whatever. Just don't be rude during this game. You— hi, Margaux!— you need to stay quiet."

"Hi, Lenny," Margaux said. "Hi, Neville, hi, Pansy, hi Slytherin thugs."

All four of Mallory's friends dropped their jaws.

"I'm kidding!" she said. "Sorry! Don't start a war. Really, I'm kidding!"

One tall Indian guy finally smiled. "Nah, we know."

A round Scottish guy shook his head in amusement. "You Gryffindors need to learn some control."

"Not gonna happen." Margaux flashed her brilliant smile, which always got her out of trouble. She turned to Lenore and Neville. "Okay, you two take your place in those chairs between the staircases. Where are Mallory and Blair?"

"Blair's here," Lenore said. "She's… oh! Her and Mallory are already sitting in the middle. And Dean and Ginny are over there, too."

Margaux clapped her hands to quicken their pace. "Hurry up, go sit over there, then."

Lenore glared at her sister, but they still shared a smile. She took Neville's hand and they sat on in the left set of chairs. Lenore gave Neville a quick kiss, which made him blush. The boy was not used to being the focus of a room, like he was about to be today.

Margaux took her seat in front of them and commanded the audience to be quiet. She gave a welcome and introduced the players. As Derek Davies, Dagwood, and Helaine entered the room, five minutes late, Margaux waved between her words. She explained the rules of the game to the audience of about thirty people.

"So, the way this works is, first round the boys leave the room. I will ask the girls five questions and they'll write their answers down on large piece of paper. When we're done with that, the boys return and try to guess what their partner wrote down. Each round is five questions and we're going to do three rounds. Boys leave, girls leave, and then a bonus round where anyone can answer. Are you all ready to play?"

The audience cheered as the players nodded.

"Circe, can you take the boys upstairs and put a silencing charm around them?"

She girl nodded, happy to help. She stood up and corralled Neville, Mallory, and Dean towards the staircase.

"Look at Circe, going into a boys dormitory and not fucking someone!" yelled the Scottish Slytherin.

"Shut up, Kirby," Lenore growled.

"The only time you get fucked in your dormitory is by your hand," Pansy said.

Circe shot Kirby a middle finger as the audience laughed. She took the boys upstairs and Margaux asked the girls all five questions and waited for them to write down each answer. The boys returned and the game began.

"First question!" Margaux clapped her hands together. "What was your worst date with your partner? Neville, you guess first. Remember to guess what Lenore wrote down, not what you think."

He turned to Lenore. "I… I don't know. Maybe… that time we went to the Astronomy Tower and it started raining and blowing into us."

Lenore raised her card. "I actually put the time we went to Hogsmeade."

Neville glanced hesitantly towards Ginny, who glared at Lenore. Margaux decided to move the game along.

"Mallory! Guess what Blair said was your worst date!"

The tall, square-squared boy squinted. "Ummm…

"Nope," she said as she raised her card. "The worst was that double date with your sister and her last boyfriend."

Mallory shrugged. "That one wasn't bad."

"She threw pizza at me."

The audience laughed as Mallory's eyes widened. "Oh yeah! She did, didn't she?"

"She doesn't like you?" Margaux asked.

Blair shook her head. "Nope. Only his mom likes me. The rest of the family doesn't."

"Why?"

"Because she's black," Mallory said as he squeezed her hand. "And she's got a muggle grandmother. But they're all assholes and it doesn't matter."

"Oh," Margaux said sadly.

"It's okay," Dean interjected. "My mom is white and some of her family likes her kids with her white husband better than me. It's not like there's a reason. She was married to my dad, he was a great guy, they just didn't like him because he was black. There's nothing you can do to change their mind, trust me. You can be the perfect child, the perfect human, and they'll still call you miscegenation."

Margaux's lips parted as she watched Dean. He fell silent and Blair nodded. "Thanks, Thomas. That's actually a reassuring."

"It's nothing she does," Mallory said. "It's not a personal thing. It's an entire race thing."

Dean nodded slowly. "For sure. Anyway, it's my turn, right?"

Margaux confirmed this.

"Our worst date was probably on top of the Astronomy Tower in mid-October. She knows why."

Ginny raised her card. "No. Our worst date was when you made cheese and tomato sandwiches."

Silence fell over the room.

"That's what made a date bad?" Blair raised her eyebrows.

"He knows I hate tomato."

"So pick the tomatoes off," said Lenore.

"No," she crossed her arms.

Margaux stared in silence at Ginny as she tossed her card to the side. "Alright," she finally said, "well this is off to a great start. Zero for zero. Hopefully the next question is a little easier. Next up, what frightens your partner the most? Mallory, you're first."

"Guess what frightens her?"

Margaux nodded.

"She's scared of height. Like deathly afraid of standing on anything higher than her knees."

Blair squealed and held up her matching card.

"That's a point for Mallory and Blair!" Margaux said as she tallied. "Next up, Neville. What frightens Lenore?"

"Merlin, so many things," he said.

She smiled and smacked him lightly.

He shook his head. "Literally, so many things. Bugs. Statues. Water. The dark. She's even scared of putting her shoes on the wrong feet."

Lenore flushed red. "I am not!"

"That's what you told me one day. Because you don't want your toes to permanently cramp."

"I… I was kidding!"

Neville smiled. "Sure. But… I'm stuck between commitment or feelings."

Lenore kept her face neutral as Margaux prodded Neville for an answer.

"I'm going to guess…" He examined Lenore. "Actually, I'm going to guess not being in control of a situation, whether it's personal or not."

 _Lose of control_ read Lenore's card, which made the couple cheer.

"Dean, what frightens Ginny?"

Dean clicked his tongue in thought. "Um, let's guess spiders."

"That's Ron!" she screeched.

"Oh," Dean flushed. "I guess you're right."

Ginny's full lips dropped open. "Do you confuse me with my brother?"

"No!"

"You do, you pervert," she accused.

Margaux could not tell if the couple was joking or not. However, by Dean's brief glance towards her, she could tell Ginny was not kidding. Margaux decided to move the questions on.

"What one item of clothing does your partner wear that you can't stand? Dean, guess first. Then, Mallory, then Neville."

Mallory raised his eyebrows, but said, "Blair hates it when I wear flip-flops."

"God I hate those flip-flops," she gritted her teeth. "But no! I said that shirt with all the holes in it!"

"Ohhh yeah," he recalled. "I'm still not throwing that away."

"I'll throw it away one day."

"You better not—"

"Dean!" Margaux interrupted. "Your turn."

The boy did not even flinch. "She hates when I wear khaki pants."

Ginny let out a whoop and the pair high-fived.

"That didn't take much thought," Mallory said.

Dean shrugged. "No, she says it all the time."

"Longbottom," said Margaux. "Go."

Neville turned to Lenore. "Umm… I honestly have no idea. She doesn't tell me."

He was silent for a long time, until Lenore demanded, "Neville, guess!"

"Well… probably… that one black sweatshirt I have. It's not flattering at all."

She cringed and held up her card. "I don't like those weird saggy jeans you have."

"Weird?"

"Neville, they're like two sizes too big. And they're cut really weird. Like the leg holes are just… weird."

"Those bootcut jeans he has?" Blair asked.

"Yes!" Lenore said. "You know which ones I'm talking about?"

"He was wearing them the day we met him, right?"

Lenore searched her brain. "Yes!"

Blair nodded. "Yeah, Longbottom, you gotta get rid of those. Also, Mallory, I'm throwing away your jeans that sag like that, too."

"Dean wears jeans really nice," commented Ginny.

"He does," Lenore agreed as Blair nodded.

Dean looked throughly embarrassed.

"They've got to be tight on the arse and thin at the leg," said Ginny. "Not skinny jeans, but you know. Just straight down, no flare."

"Definitely tight on the arse," Lenore said. "Neville has a really great pair like that."

"Mallory, too," said Blair. "God, I love those jeans on you."

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," Mallory said. "All my jeans look the same."

"You just don't know because your mom or Blair goes shopping for you," said Lenore.

"All my jeans look the same, too," Neville said.

Lenore rolled her eyes. "No."

"Anyway!" Margaux interrupted. "Nobody cares. Argue about this later. What is one traits of yours that gets on your partner's nerves? Mallory."

"Like, a trait of Blair's?"

Margaux nodded. This boy was not understanding these questions at all. "Her trait that annoys you."

Mallory cringed. "I'm going to get in so much trouble. Thanks a lot for these questions, Circe."

Circe smiled from the audience.

"I think… at times… maybe…"

Blair smacked his chest. "Just say it!"

"You are really bossy and you don't give me enough time to do things."

Blair held up her card to reveal the word _bossy_ and the couple celebrated with a kiss.

"Dean," Margaux directed.

"I have no idea," he said. "Maybe… sometimes I don't listen to her?"

Ginny's mouth flung open. "Dean, what the fuck?"

"What did you put?" he demanded.

"Controlling," she said as she held up her card.

"I am _not_ controlling!"

"You are!"

Dean's mouth was wider than Margaux had ever seen. She knew he was not controlling. Ginny did not know what she was talking about.

"Neville!" Margaux interrupted an inevitable Dean/Ginny fight.

Longbottom hesitated. "Umm… Lenore… doesn't… She… She's really indecisive sometimes. Or like… I don't know how to explain it. She's really opinionated, except with things she doesn't care about, then she changes her opinion all the time."

Lenore held up her card, which read, _Change my mind too much_.

Neville grinned and squeezed her hand.

"Okay," Margaux said, "this next one is… weird. Thanks Circe."

The girl saluted her lavender-colored bangs.

"Which body part of your man's is your favorite? Mallory, guess first."

His square jaw hung loose. "Guess what she said my sexiest part was?"

Margaux resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Mallory really was not understanding the concept of this game. "Yes. What Blair thinks is your sexiest part."

"My cock."

Both Margaux and Lenore made the same disgusted noise, along with Pansy. Mallory's friends began laughing wildly. Blair held up her card, which read _His penis_.

"Ew!" Pansy said.

"It's nice!" Blair argued. "And it wouldn't be sex without it, so…"

"Dean, guess," Margaux said after shaking her head.

"Hmmm… Ginny probably said my arms."

Ginny squealed when her card matched his. She tried to kiss Dean, but he turned so she only touched his cheek. Margaux's eyes widened as she noticed that little nuanced movement.

"Neville."

Neville played with his hands nervously. "M-my s-sexiest part?"

Lenore nodded gently.

"U-umm well…"

The boy looked down at his hands. "I-I honestly don't know."

"Neville," Lenore said as she placed her hand on top of his, "I've told you this before."

"NO HINTS!" Margaux yelled.

Neville bit his cheek. "I-I'm just going to guess. My… lips."

Lenore's face fell. She held up her card. "Your arse."

"O-oh," he said as his eyes widened.

Lenore hugged his arm and tapped her cheek to his shoulder. Margaux knew Neville was incredibly self-conscious about a lot of things, probably his body included. She placed her gaze on Dean, who also watched the couple. Dean moved his gaze to Margaux and the moment they made eye contact, she blinked and turned away.

"Okay," Margaux said as she clapped her hands. "That was five questions. At the end of this round, the score stands at Blair and Mallory with four, Ginny and Dean with three, and Lenore and Neville with two."

Lenore's mouth dropped open and she turned to Neville. She whispered something Margaux could not hear, so the host continued. "Now the girls leave the room while I ask the boys their questions."

Blair, Lenore, and Ginny were escorted by Circe upstairs, where she placed a silencing charm around their ears. Margaux questioned the boys, who wrote each of their answers on a separate card, silently, so the audience would not hear. After they finished, Circe fetched the girls from upstairs and they took their places.

Margaux grinned. "Alright, first question. Which of your partner's friends do you find most attractive?"

"WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?" Ginny demanded.

"A good one!" Circe argued.

"No it's not!"

Circe crossed her arms. "Either way, your man answered. Don't you want to hear?"

Ginny started to open her mouth, but Margaux interrupted and smiled slyly. "Lenore, guess first."

Lenore examined Neville. She bit her lip and then said, "I think you would say… Katie."

Neville frowned and lifted his card to reveal Leanne Kuang's name.

"Leanne?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Y-yeah," he said. "She's nice."

Lenore laughed. "You're supposed to go on looks not personality!"

"I-I mean, she's pretty, too."

"Yeah," Lenore smiled. "She is. I didn't know she was your type."

A smug look appeared on Mallory's face as he laughed loudly. "Mate, she's jealous!"

"No, I'm not!" Lenore's voice squealed. She immediately seemed to notice how high-pitched her voice sounded, as she shut her lips tight.

Neville smiled and looked astonished. "Are you?"

"No!"

Again, everyone laughed, especially Blair and Mallory. Lenore folded her arms. "I'm not. Forget it. Blair, it's your turn."

"You are jealous," he whispered near her ear.

"Shut up," she begged.

He kissed her cheek. "You're the only girl I ever notice."

"Okay, ew," Margaux commented.

Lenore kissed Neville's lips as Blair said, "I think Mallory put Mathilda Greenfold."

Mallory's eyes widened. "Wait. What was the question again?"

Host Margaux chimed in. "Which one of Blair's friends do you think is most attractive?"

Mallory hid his card behind his left thigh. "Nope, Blair doesn't need to see."

"Mal!" Blair argued. She grabbed the card from his hand and shrieked. "LENORE?"

All eyes turned to Lenore, who appeared throughly shocked.

"YOU SAID LENORE AND SHE'S SITTING RIGHT THERE?"

Mallory cringed. "I didn't understand the question! I thought it asked who of your friends I would most want to date!"

"YOU STILL PUT LENORE!"

"She's…" He glanced wildly around. "Blair, all your friends are completely insane. Lenore is at least level-headed."

"Okay," Margaux interrupted, "no point for Blair and Mallory. Ginny?"

"The question was," Blair talked over her, "which one do you think is the fittest?"

"I…." Mallory still shifted in discomforted. "I guess still Lenore. Or Astoria Greengrass."

"I am not friends with Astoria," Blair said as she folded her arms.

"Okay, well, forget it. I think you're fitter than either one of them."

Lenore and Pansy made eye contact in hope this would start a fight, but Lenore's face still showed vague offense. Neville shifted uncomfortably.

"I've never been called 'fit' before," said Lenore. "Even though that title was snatched away."

"You and Blair have similar body types," Dean commented. "Mallory's got a type."

Ginny smacked his chest and demanded, "Since when have you been noticing body types?"

"I fucking have eyes," he replied.

"I've called you 'fit,'" Neville interrupted.

"When?"

He thought a moment. "I… I have."

"Nope," she said. "You call me other things. But never fit."

"I call you 'fit' in my head."

She laughed. "That doesn't count."

"Nobody's ever called you fit?" he questioned in disbelief. "I think you just don't remember."

"Nope. I've been called every word in the book, but never fit."

"I'll call you fit more often," said Neville.

"Ginny," Margaux interrupted. "Who do you think Dean picked?"

Ginny examined Dean. "I think you picked Margaux."

His mouth tumbled open, as did Margaux's. "You thought I would pick Margaux, with her sitting right there?"

"She is fit, isn't she?"

Margaux had no idea what Ginny was doing. Hurting Dean's dignity, for sure. His eyes turned between Ginny and Margaux. "I-I mean… Okay, I'm not answering that. It doesn't pertain to the question."

"Then who did you pick?" demanded Ginny.

Dean flipped up his card to reveal Derek Davies' name. The small audience shrieked with laughter. Derek stood up and bowed, before blowing a kiss to Dean, who caught it in the air and clasped it to his heart.

Ginny's mouth fell open and she shouted over Mallory's deep laugh, "YOU THINK DEREK IS FIT?"

"He is!" Dean argued. "I mean, I'm not attracted to him, but he is attractive."

Ginny folded her arms. "You aren't taking this seriously."

Margaux made eye contact with Dean, who held her gaze steady for a moment. The pair shared a smile that sparked butterflies in Margaux's stomach. He broke eye contact to whisper to Ginny and Margaux was left dumbfounded. Had she just felt butterflies? For Dean? What the hell was that about? Margaux pushed the thought to the side and said, "Okay, next question. When and where was your best snog session? Blair, you go first."

"Wait…" she said after a moment. "You said snog session. But Mallory's an idiot, so he's going to put our best sex. So… I'm going to say… last May, in my dorm showers."

"WHAT?" Lenore and Pansy both screeched.

Mallory raised his card to reveal to words _Your shower, May._

"BLAIR!" Pansy yelled. "WE ALL USE THOSE SHOWERS!"

"Circe does it, too," she scoffed.

Circe shrugged and crossed her arms. "The water cleans it."

Lenore's nose crinkled as Pansy opened her mouth to argue, but Margaux cut her off. "Lenore," Margaux said. "And I'm going to close my ears. I don't want to hear this."

Lenore examined Neville a moment as he looked anxious. "I think… he would say… Last weekend, on his bed."

His card revealed that he wrote _By the lake, Halloween weekend_.

"T-they're all great," he said immediately. "Really, Merlin, I could have said last weekend, too, but…"

Lenore crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, looking slightly peeved. "That's okay."

"Ginny?" asked Margaux.

"Hmmm… On the Astronomy Tower three weeks ago."

Dean's held up his card, which read _By the lake after the fireworks_.

Ginny frowned and crossed her arms like Lenore.

"Alright," Margaux said, "this next one is hopefully funny. What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done around your partner? Lenore, guess first."

She clapped her hands together. "Hell yeah, I got this one! He threw up from nervousness before our first kiss."

Neville flushed red and revealed his card matched exactly what she said. Lenore squealed with delight and tapped her head on his shoulder.

"You threw up before you kissed her?" Mallory cringed.

"And you still let him kiss you?" Pansy sneered.

"No comments from the audience," Margaux interrupted.

Neville's blush grew ever darker. "Y-yeah."

"It was fine," said Lenore. "He was still a great kisser."

Blair shook her head and said, "Okay, well, my turn right?"

Margaux nodded.

"Mallory accidentally peed in my mouth one time."

"BLAIR!" It was Mallory's turn to flush deep red. He buried his face in his hands as the room fell to interested silence.

"You didn't put that?" Blair also blushed.

"No!" he hissed. "Jesus Christ, thanks for bringing this up."

Ginny beat her palms on her table. "What happened?"

Blair cringed as Mallory laid his head on the table and groaned. "I was sucking him off and he just started peeing by accident. It was fine, he apologized a ton. I wasn't mad or anything, but he couldn't look me in the eye for a day. I'm so sorry, hun."

Another groan from him as everyone laughed.

"Then what did you put?" Blair asked.

"I put at the Yule Ball when I lifted you into the air and then tripped and tossed you onto a table before I fell down."

"Oh, ha," she said. "That was embarrassing, too."

"I know, thanks."

Blair gave Mallory a kiss and hugged his arm as Margaux turned to Ginny. "What's the most embarrassing thing Dean has done?"

Ginny thought a moment. "One time when we were snogging, Dean came in his pants."

"GINNY!" he shouted.

Margaux clapped a hand over her mouth, as did Lenore and Mallory. Everyone in the room gasped. Dean's hands shot up to cover his eyes.

"It's true!" she said.

Dean groaned into his hands as Margaux watched helplessly. She felt bad for Dean. That information should not be revealed to everyone. Ginny was being cruel on purpose now. She had to be. She must feel threatened by something or someone, because she was being particularly aggressive and patronizing to Dean. This however, was just evil.

"It's not what I put," he groaned.

"Why would you think he put that?" Mallory demanded. "He obviously wouldn't want that revealed."

"And you saw how Mallory reacted when I said something inappropriate," said Blair. "He was obviously hurt. You're trying to hurt Dean on purpose, I'm convinced."

Lenore nodded along. "You're being really mean to him."

Dean kept his face hidden in his hands as he stared down as his desk. Ginny was silent. She crossed her arms with a look of contempt indignation.

"Dean," Margaux said gently, "it's okay. Don't be embarrassed."

"Yeah, mate," Mallory offered. "We've all done it. I'll tell you, the first time I had sex with Blair, I finished in about thirty seconds. It's fine. It happens sometimes. It honestly still happens sometimes."

Circe spoke up. "It's completely normal. I've had plenty of guys do it. Like, guys that were the farthest thing from being virgins, too."

Lenore nodded. "I hear about it all the time."

"Has Longbottom ever done it?" Blair asked.

Lenore glanced at Neville, who flushed red. "Not that I know of, but I mean…"

"I haven't," he said quickly. "But… there have been some close calls. It's okay, Dean, really."

Dean nodded and raised his head, but kept his eyes down. Margaux felt the sudden urge to get up and give him a hug. He had been so sad lately, and this still the saddest she had ever seen him.

"Thanks," he nearly whispered.

"So what did you put?" Ginny asked.

"I put the time I banged my head on that tree branch and started bleeding all over," he said miserably.

Ginny shrugged. "The one I said is more embarrassing."

"Ginny, shut up," Lenore snapped. "Stop making fun of him."

"It's not my fault he can't control himself," she smirked.

Lenore glared at her. "Neville told me what you did to Dean, so don't even act all high and mighty. You're being a manipulative bitch."

Pansy spoke over Ginny, "What did she do to Dean?"

Lenore shook her head. "That's none of your business. It's not mine either."

"Shut up, Lenore, " Ginny snarled. "Are you talking about at the Halloween party?"

"I'm pretty sure it's been twice."

"No, it hasn't."

"Even once is too much if he didn't want it."

"He wanted."

"Obviously he didn't if he kept telling you 'no,' Ginny."

"Fuck off, Lenore! You don't even know what we're talking about."

Margaux sat watching this exchange like a tennis match, back and forth. Everyone in the room was utterly confused.

Lenore uncrossed her arms and leaned over her desk, ready to intensify this fight. "You know what you did was wrong, Ginny. How would you like it if a bloke did that to you?"

"There's a difference—"

"No!" Lenore shouted. "There is no difference! He told you 'no' and you kept going. You assaulted him, Ginny. You're no better than a criminal."

Every eye in the room was on these two girls. Realization swept over the room at Lenore's final sentence. Had Ginny punched Dean? Margaux turned to view her former best friend. Ginny could not have struck him… right?

"Wait—" Blair said.

"Ginny…?" Margaux whispered.

"It's okay!" Dean said quickly. "It's fine! Really. Lenore, please calm down. It's fine, really."

Lenore nodded and fell silent, but Ginny kept up the fight. "I did not assault Dean."

Lenore stayed defiantly quiet.

"Dean!" Ginny shrieked. "Tell them I didn't assault you!"

Dean surveyed the room hesitantly, but he still avoided Margaux's eye. He moved his gaze to his hands as he said, "I-I mean… I told you 'no' and you still did it. All three times."

"Three times?" Lenore sat up straighter.

Ginny screamed, "It was not three times!"

Dean said quietly. "It was three times."

"Wait," Blair interrupted Ginny. "Dean, honey, what happened? I'm so confused."

Dean took a deep breath. Ginny gripped his arm forcibly. He glanced between her hand and her eyes, then shoved her off of him. He turned to Blair. "Ginny has grabbed my cock three times after I've told her to stop and that I'm not ready for that."

Margaux's jaw dropped. She could feel herself stop breathing. Every eye in the room was on Dean, but that did not matter to her.

Finally, Dean caught her eye. He stared at her a moment, before turning to Ginny and saying, "You hurt me, Ginny."

She scoffed. "Dean, you're a bloke. You always want it."

"No," he said sadly. "I don't."

Ginny beat her palm on the table. "Why are you making me look like the bad guy? All I was trying to do is make you happy!"

"I-I told you I don't want that," he said sheepishly.

Margaux could tell Dean was losing his nerve. He was reverting back to being scared of Ginny.

"Bullshit," Ginny scoffed. "Don't twist this on me. We were snogging. You know what comes after a certain point of snogging."

"No," Lenore yelled at once. She turned her body towards Ginny and smacked her palm down on the table. "How would you feel if a boy stuck his finger up your underwear after you told him no? It's happened to me—"

Neville's head swiveled around to her and Margaux gasped.

"—and it hurts, Ginny. It makes you feel like shit."

Neville spoke up. "When did that happen to you?"

Lenore bit her cheek. "At Dean's party."

"Rivers?" his eyes widened.

Lenore nodded. Neville mouth dropped open as he stared at her. "He—"

"I'll tell you later," she whispered.

Margaux watched her sister's eyes become fierce once more. Her voiced strengthened. "So Ginny, don't you dare tell him it's not a big deal. You violated him. That's not okay."

"Dean!" Ginny shrieked. "Tell Lenore to fuck off. She doesn't know anything about us."

Dean was quiet. He glanced between Margaux and Lenore, and finally he eyes landed on Lenore, seemingly begging her to speak up so he would not be forced to talk. She got the memo.

Lenore relaxed her body and said simply, "You two need to break up."

Dean nodded and Ginny screeched. He made eye contact with Margaux once more, staring at her with more sadness than she had ever seen on his face. She wanted to stand up and hug him and tell him it would all be okay, if only he broke up with Ginny.

While still looking at Margaux, Dean said, "I… Ginny… we can't be together anymore."

She beat her fist on the table. "Dean! Don't do this!"

Dean turned to her and opened his mouth, but she screamed over him, "Just because you want to fuck Margaux—"

Margaux's mouth dropped open and so did Dean's.

"—doesn't mean you can toss me aside!"

"I'm not!" Dean said. "Ginny, what are you talking about? You are constantly rude and abusive! And you lie to me and say mean things and… and…"

"Dean, you know—"

"Don't pin this on Dean," interrupted Lenore. "Ginny, you are the problem, not him."

Margaux's mind was spinning. Dean did not really want to… right? She still stared at him, but he was not making eye contact with her.

"G-ginny," he stammered, "you can't talk me out of this. We have broken up."

"No! We haven't—"

"Oh, fuck off, Ginny!" Lenore said. "You don't deserve Dean. You are mean and manipulative and cruel and quite honestly, you are a bitch."

"Lenore, I won't have this!"

"Then fucking leave!" she shouted. "Leave the game and leave Dean! You are a sexual predator."

Ginny gasped and burst into tears. She ran from the room and Margaux noticed her roommate Verona run after her. Her eyes flickered to Derek, who sat cross-armed with his legs crossed. They exchanged a "told you so" look, before she turned her gaze back to the contestants. Neville would not take his eyes off Lenore, who watched Dean. Margaux's eyes flew over to Dean. The pair made eye contact as Dean's lower lip quivered. He stood up at once and that's when all hell broke loose. The audience roared with chatter and the contestants gave up on the game. Dean sped out of the room as Lenore headed towards Margaux, with Neville chasing after her.

As Lenore got closer, Margaux watched Neville desperately trying to get her attention.

"Lenore," Neville said as he grabbed her arm.

Lenore ignored him and shook him off her. Instead, she reached for Margaux.

"You're going after Dean, right?"

Margaux nodded as she glanced at Neville, who watched Lenore will more care than she had ever seen. "Yeah. Hey… Oliver… he… did that to you?"

Lenore nodded. "Yeah. But it's fine. I beat him up."

Margaux nodded slowly as she read her sister's face. Lenore's emotions were not easy to read, but she genuinely seemed fine at the moment. "Okay. We'll talk about this later. I'm going to go talk to Dean."

Lenore nodded. "Love you, Mar. Make sure he's okay."

She hesitated. "Are you okay?"

"Completely. You know stuff like that makes me angry, not sad."

Margaux hugged her sister, who reluctantly returned the gesture. "We'll still talk about it."

"Go talk to Dean!" she smiled. "He's hurting. I'm not."

Margaux nodded, then leaned into Lenore's ear. "And you talk to Neville. When you said that, he looked about like he just saw you get stabbed right in front of him."

"I know," she whispered. "He's going to be weird about this."

"His feelings are valid. Just remember that. He's emotional, like me. Don't dismiss his feelings like you do mine sometimes. He really cares about you."

Lenore bit her lip. "Okay."

Margaux pecked her sister on the cheek, then ran out into the hallway to find Dean.

 **.**

 **LENORE'S POV**

She should not have revealed that information in front of everyone. Or at all. She did not want to talk about what Oliver did to her, but now that it was out, she would have to explain, no matter how much she dreaded it.

She turned around to look at Neville, who stared at her with so much fear and care that it took her breath away.

"Lenore," he said desperately, "what happened to you at that party?"

She cringed and shook her head. "It's okay, Neville, really. It doesn't upset me."

"Lenore," he grabbed her hands. "Please, please, tell me."

She furrowed her brow and whispered, "I will. Just, let's go somewhere more private."

He nodded furiously and led her outside into the corridor, then down a long hall. He took a seat on the windowsill, never taking his eyes off her. She smiled faintly at him, and his lips parted. He knew that was her signal that she was nervous. He held both her hands in his and she took a deep breath. "You… you probably didn't see how close Oliver was to me, right?"

"I-I didn't see his hands." Neville's voice cracked with anguish, which absolutely split her heart in two.

She pouted and squeezed his hands. "Please don't be sad. Or mad. Or any kind of upset. Really, it doesn't bother me anymore."

"Len, please," he whispered. "What happened?"

She smiled faintly once more, which she mentally kicked herself for. "His hands were everywhere, but mostly on my butt. I felt him slide lower and lower, and suddenly, I felt his middle finger down there. Like, on my bare skin. He had stuck his hand up the leg of my shorts and moved my underpants. He.. he didn't jam inside or between, but he was touching the outside lips, you know?"

Neville furrowed his brow and nodded.

"That's all," she finished with a strong, nonchalant voice. "It didn't hurt physically. It was less than maybe three seconds. But… yeah. It happened."

"Len," he pouted as he pulled her into a hug.

"Neville," she said into his chest, "I'm totally okay."

He placed a hand on the back of her head and held her tight to his chest. He nuzzled his face into her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She allowed him to hold her for a long while, probably a full minute, before she said, "It's okay. It genuinely doesn't bother me. He's a prat and he doesn't deserve any space in my mind."

Neville nodded. "That's true."

The pair were silent, then Neville said, "I should have punched him."

"No," Lenore said at once. "No, you were perfect. I'm glad you didn't."

"I want to punch him right now," he said. "Lenore, I can never be around him again or I'll hit him."

"Neville, no," she squeezed his body, "He's an arsehole, but he doesn't deserve your attention either. Please promise me you won't do anything to him."

Neville was silent. She pulled away slightly and looked at him. There was a fire in his eye that she had never seen before. A scary, controlling power that showed her exactly how angry he was. She gripped his shoulders and shook him in an attempt to rid him of the demon inside.

"Neville. Promise me."

He bit his cheek as his eyes flickered around for a moment. Finally, he landed back on her, with softened eyes, and sighed. "I promise."

She kissed his lips and he returned her motions with more passion than she had ever felt. He absolutely devoured her every move and held her steady. He whimpered against her mouth and she knew it was a sad noise, not lustful. She had never seen him this depressed before, even at his darkest times. He always managed to remain calm and feign neutrality, but this was different.

"Lenore," he said as he leaned, "you could have told me about this before."

"No," she shook her head. "It's really not that big of a deal. It wasn't worth it. And… I knew it would hurt you."

His face contorted, as if he were about to cry. "It does. Merlin, it hurts so much. But Len… I do wish I would have known."

Another shake of her head. "I would have told you eventually. I'm sure you keep things from me. The timing just isn't right to spill all our secrets."

He kissed her, warm and loving. "Who else knows?"

"Now everybody in the room," she sighed. "And Terry."

Neville's jaw dropped. "Did… did Terry see?"

Lenore nodded. "He came up to me this first week of school and asked me if I was okay. He's the only one who knew before today."

"Lenore," he whimpered as he held her tight once more.

"Neville," she loosened his grasp and let go of him. Her words where sharper than she intended and full of annoyance. "Please don't treat me like I'm a victim. I'm not."

Genuine hurt appeared in his eyes and Lenore felt like crying on the spot. This really had affected him more than she thought. He stared at her with more hurt than she had ever experienced in her life. It killed him when she pulled away. She needed to apologize, but he spoke.

"I-I know," he said quietly. " I just… I never want anything bad to happen to you. I care for you, Lenore, a lot. You're… you… Len, you mean everything to me."

Neville placed his head against hers and held her tight. After a moment, she heard him sniff. She moved her head to view his face, but he turned away.

"Nev!" she gasped as she caught a glimpse of his wet cheeks. "Are you crying?"

He shook his head, but still faced away from her.

"Honey," she said desperately, "please don't cry. Oh, Neville, don't cry. It's okay. I'm okay."

He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and held her again, his face pressed against her hair. She still had not seen his face, but he was certainly tearing up.

"Neville," she scooted even closer and hugged him as tight as she could. "I promise you, I'm okay. Neville, please. Please don't be sad. Oh god, I care about you so much. Please don't cry, sweetie."

"L-lenore," he said after she stopped begging. "I'm… I…"

He sniffed and sunk his fingertips into her back. "I just… You…"

Another small sniff as she rubbed circles in his back.

"Don't talk," she whispered. "You don't have to say anything. I want you to know how much you mean to me and how little that instance means to me. I'm not scarred. I'm not a victim. I never think about it. It did not hurt me, mentally or physically. I am completely fine. And I want you to be fine. Please don't cry. It breaks my heart every time you cry. You are so good to me, Neville. You treat me better than any other boy I've ever spoken to. I'm so thankful for you. Thank you for always being there for me. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for being you. I fancy you, Neville, so, so much."

He was quiet a moment, before he held her head and kissed her cheek, long and powerful.

"Lenore, you mean the world to me. I'm sorry I cried. I-it's embarrassing—"

"No," she cut him off, "don't be embarrassed, or I'll start crying, too. You are wonderful."

He kissed her cheek again and held her steady. Finally he pulled away to look her in the eye. His eyes were red and puffy and Lenore immediately felt tears in her own eyes. She cupped his jaw and rubbed her thumbs on his cheek.

"Nev," she whispered in an attempt to hold back her own emotions, "don't cry."

"I-I'm done," he breathed. "Now don't you start."

She laughed and a single tear fell down her cheek, but that was all. She was done crying. He wiped her cheek and said, "Lenore… I never want you to hurt ever again. If anything else ever happens to you, please, please tell me immediately."

She nodded. "I will."

He finally smiled, but it quickly faded. "I… I know you want this to be casual, but… Lenore, you mean too much to me. I'm… I…"

"What?" she whispered.

He turned his eyes to his lap. "I… Merlin, I know you just said not to say this—"

"Neville—" she panicked.

"I don't love you," he said at once. "But… I am falling in love with you."

She gulped as he met her eye.

"Sorry," he said. "Lenore, I'm really sorry. I'd rather be casual than nothing, so if that's problem, just forget I said it. I just… I want you to know how I feel. I'm so sorry."

"No," she said at once. "It's… it's fine, because… I think I am, too."

He blinked. "You're… falling in love with me?"

She nodded. "I'm headed that way, yeah."

He stared at her a moment, then attacked her lips. The way he held her was like nothing she ever felt. He supported every cell in her body, including her soul, as he held her firmly, yet gently and pulled her closer to him.

A powerful ripple of pleasure spread across her torso and she could not stop herself from moaning against his mouth. He gratefully returned the noise and kissed her with even more passion. He muddle her senses until she was not aware of anything around her except his body.

"We don't have to be casual anymore," she said as she pulled away. "You're not going to scare me off. You don't have to hide your feelings if you don't want to. I don't want to make you do that. I want you to tell me everything and anything you want and I'll do the same."

"Okay," he beamed. "So what does that mean? What's different between casual and now?"

She bit her cheek. "I'm not sure. I guess it just opens up the possibility for love. And staying together for longer. Neville, I always knew this wouldn't be casual."

"Y-you did?"

She nodded. "I know how you feel. I've been able to see it since May. And I feel the same way."

"W-what do you mean?" he asked.

"You want me," she said. "Not like… sexually. Well, I mean, you do, but I'm talking about you want me around. You want me to be your partner and friend. And I want that, too. Remember in the game when you accused me of being jealous?"

He nodded. "I didn't _accuse_ —"

"Well, it's true," she interrupted. "I'm a jealous person. I wasn't jealous over Leanne, because I know you care about me, but… I do feel jealous when you talk about other girls, even just as friends. And I think that means you mean more to me than I'm conscious of. I think my slight jealously is going to force me to realize my feelings."

He smiled. "I don't understand how your brain works, but I appreciate it. You never have to be jealous, though. You are honestly, truly, the only girl I ever think about."

She grinned and kissed his lips. "Thanks. You can think about other girls though, I'm not trying to tell you that you can't do something. And don't change anything just because I said I get jealous. I know you only want me."

"I do," he said. "I really, really, want to be with you for as long as we are both happy."

She smiled and squeezed his back. "Me, too."

Her eyes twinkled as she laid her head on his chest. He loosened his grasp on her, but settled his body into hers.

"So, we tied for last in the Newlywed game. That's pretty bad."

Neville smiled. "Y-yeah, it's really bad. Those were hard questions though. And if we had gotten the last two that Margaux didn't ask, we could have tied for first with Mallory and Blair."

"As long as they got those two wrong."

"Yeah…" he said slowly. "Well, they were hard questions. We could have won with the bonus round, I bet. Also… I didn't know you thought my… my arse was my sexiest part."

"It is," she grinned. "I've told you before. I've cupped it before. Although, your lips are really nice, too."

"T-thanks," he blushed even deeper than her.

She smiled and kissed his lips, slow and steady. As she pulled away, she whispered, "What's my sexiest part?"

"Erm—" Neville avoided her gaze and stared down at his lap. "M-maybe… I don't know. All of you."

"No!" she laughed. "Tell me one specific thing."

"Well… your-your legs."

She glanced down. "My legs, huh?"

He nodded. "Y-your thighs, specifically."

"Really?" she said. "What do you like about them?"

"I-I don't really know," he said. "They're just so bloody sexy. You've got great legs. K-kind of thicker—" He noticed her eyes widen. "—not in a bad way! Not at all. Your legs aren't thick, I don't know why I said that. They're… shapely. Merlin, I-I d-don't k-know what I'm trying to say. But… but you have really, really nice ankles."

"My ankles are my sexiest part?" she laughed.

"No!"

Neville was beet-red, which made Lenore giggle some more. She leaned in and kissed his lips. As she pulled away, he met her eyes and watched her gently. "Y-you just have really nice ankles. L-like, they're thinner than your calves a-and… I don't know. Ignore me, please."

"You're funny," she smiled. "But really, why my thighs? I do have kind of thicker legs. You like that?"

"I… I love them. So much. It about kills me when we're snogging and your thighs touch me. O-one time w-when we were snogging, I-I was on t-top of you and y-you wrapped y-your legs around my waist and… er… well, remember in the game when I said I've had a few close calls?"

She nodded.

"Th-that was one of them."

"Aww, Nev!" she laughed. "You should have told me! You've never mentioned liking my legs."

"I-I do," he exhaled. "God, all of you though. Your waist about kills me, too."

"Yeah?" she smiled.

Neville slid his hands to her lower ribs and rested the edge of his hand on her hip. "I mean, look at this. Merlin H. Wizard. Your hips are like a shelf. Er—"

He noticed the shook of surprise on her face and instantly regretted his word choice. "I'm so sorry! I-I'm really not good at this."

"No!" she laughed. "It's funny!"

"I-I sound like I'm calling you sturdy. O-or like, fat. You're not. At all. Not even close. You are completely, utterly perfect."

"Do you remember what I said about 'perfect?'" she asked.

Neville thought a moment. "Ohhh, yeah. When I was drunk, you said not to use it."

She nodded. "Yeah. I don't want you thinking I'm perfect, because I'm not. Nobody is. I don't want you to hold me to that standard."

He nodded. "I understand. But… when I say perfect, I don't mean compared to other people. I mean compared to you. You are the best you that you can be. You are the perfect you. Not the perfect woman or the perfect human. The perfect Lenore."

She pouted as she watched him speak. Neville was the kindest human being on the planet and he truly cared about her. She kissed his lips and wound her tongue into his mouth, which sent a shiver across his torso. His hands held her steady and she gently kissed his lips and tongue.

"Okay," she whispered between kisses, "since we're using the word perfect…"

She leaned away. "You're the perfect boyfriend. You are completely wonderful to me and Neville, I can't even explain to you how much you mean to me. You're always there for me. Always. You are the perfect you."

He smiled and kissed her once. "I can be better. But thanks."

"How could you get any better?"

"I could stop… b-burdening you with my problems."

"Hush," she said immediately. "We've discussed this. You tell me anything and everything you want to. I am here for you and I care about you."

He nodded. "T-thanks. Y-you know who we need to be there for?"

Lenore was quiet a moment. "Dean."

Neville nodded.

Lenore bit her cheek. "We need to keep Dean away from her."

"I think he's done. She's hurt him too much for him to go back. Right?"

Lenore shrugged. "The problem is, Dean is a survivor of a toxic relationship. Not even toxic, just straight up abusive. She sexually assaulted him, multiple times. I know I told you it didn't hurt me, but I imagine it would hurt to be a repeat victim. She did it multiple times under the guise of love. Like, it's easier for me to forget because I hate Oliver and he was drunk and—"

"Don't make excuses for him."

Neville's voice was sharp and firm. Lenore had never heard him speak that way. She peered up at his face and he looked more serious than she had ever seen. Her lips parted as she stared into his hazel eyes. "You're right."

He kissed her forehead. "If you make excuses then that makes it okay. It's not okay."

"I know," she whispered as she settled back into him. "But anyway, yeah, he's going to be hurting. And it's especially hard because nobody takes male survivors seriously. People think men always want sex, but that's not true. You have just as much right to your body as I do with mine."

Neville nodded. "I can't even begin to understand his pain. I'm trying to put myself in his shoes."

"What would you do if I grabbed you?"

He blinked. "If I were me and you were you or if I were Dean and you were Ginny?"

"If I were Ginny and you were Dean."

"I… I think I would feel really used. Or like… like you only wanted to do that to keep me around and that would make me feel dirty."

"So what would you do if I were me and you were you?"

He bit his cheek. "I would still tell you no. I-I'm not ready for that."

She nodded. "That's what I thought. Me too. Just making sure we're on the same page."

"Checking is much better than just grabbing," he said. "I just can't… I can't believe she would do that."

"I don't know why she did. I think she's going through a weird time, with puberty and all that. And I think she's emotional over Harry. I think she wants to feel loved. I don't think… I don't think she meant… er…"

"Lenore, you're making excuses again."

"I know," she sighed. "If Dean did that to her, I would demonize him in an instant. We all would. I just… I think it's easier to make excuse for people than to admit they did a bad thing or they might be bad people."

Neville nodded. "I agree."

"But you're right. I'm completely, without a doubt, on Dean's side. You saw me fighting her."

"I know," he said. "Thank you for doing that. I think that's what he needed to find the courage to break up with her."

"What, public humiliation?"

Neville shrugged. "Partly. Mostly just someone to talk some sense into the whole subject."

"I think so, too." She hesitated, then said, "Neville, I want to be closer to you. I don't like this distance right here."

She waved her hands around the space between their pelvises.

"Alright," he said gently. "Tell me where to sit."

"Can we lay down?"

He nodded as Lenore directed him to the ground. He laid on his back, while she curled up next to him. He held her with both arms and she wrapped a leg over his. Her stomach ran the length of his torso and he kissed her forehead.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes."

She smiled. "This is going to look so weird if anyone walks by."

"I don't care," he whispered as he kissed her hair. "I want to stay like this forever."

A giggle from her as she closed her eyes. "Have I told you lately what a great boyfriend you are?"

"I think you have, but I always like to hear it."

She clutched his shirt between her fingers. "You're a great boyfriend."

He beamed. "You're a great girlfriend."

After a quiet voice of appreciation, she settled herself against him and fell silent. Neville rubbed small circles into her shoulders, but she reached back to stop his movement.

"I just want you to hold me," she whispered into his shirt. "As steady as you can."

Her words obviously caused his heart to swell, because he pouted into a smile. "Alright."

She laid her torso partially on top of him and wrapped her entire arm across his chest. He held her tightly and remained completely still. She soaked up everything about him— the rise and fall of his chest, his warm body heat, his slight adjustments. He clutched her with steadfast devotion as she adjusted her breathing in tune with his. The pair laid like that, absorbed in each other's warmth and comfort, until Lenore's heart practically burst with affection.

"Neville," she whispered. "I don't think I'm falling in love with you."

She took a deep breath. "I _know_ I'm falling in love with you."

His fingers tightened their hold on her back. She did not move and neither did he, but he breathed, "I adore you."

She beamed up at him. "I adore you, too."

He tightened his grip on her even harder and smiled. "You're so, completely, absolutely, wonderful."

She smiled with more enthusiasm than she had felt in a while. She scooted up to his face and kissed his lips. He gratefully returned her motions, his lips devouring hers sweetly and his tongue gently pressing into hers. She placed a knee on either side of him and laid on him, although she held up her body weight on her arms and legs. Her body covered his and he held her back in a hug. Their kisses were slow and sweet and full of appreciation.

After a few minutes, Lenore pulled away and laid her head in his neck. Her lips trailed his skin for a while as he soaked up her devotion. Every so often he would curl his shoulders and hips up in an attempt to be even closer to her than he already was, which made her heart soar. Neville truly appreciated her, more than she ever expected a man to appreciate her. She knew he would set her expectations high for any man she dated after him, but that was a good thing.

Eventually, she moved from his neck, back to his jaw, then his lips, still slow and sweet. When she made sure he was satisfied, she moved back to his side and laid down in the crook of his arm.

"You really think our best snog session was Halloween weekend?" she asked after a moment.

"I panicked," he admitted. "I couldn't think of the best. They're all equally great."

"There isn't one that stands out?"

"When's yours?"

"The one that I said. Two weeks ago, on your bed. That Saturday night."

"That was your favorite?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"Because," she said. "I don't know. You just made me feel really good."

He smiled. "If that was your favorite, then it's my favorite, too."

"Why?"

"Because all I want is to make you feel good."

She squeezed his jumper between her fingers. "Well, you definitely did."

 **.**

 **Margaux's POV**

"Dean!"

She caught sight of the boy a few hallways away from the Gryffindor Tower. His shoulders hung so that he looked much shorter than usual. At the sound of Margaux's voice, he slowed down and eventually halted walking. She ran up behind him and grabbed his hand.

"Dean—"

He met her eye and she gasped. His eyes sunk, his cheeks heavy, his lips turned into a devastating pout. He looked exhausted and unfriendly, which Margaux had never seen before. She had never seen him without his usual amiable smile and warm eyes.

"Hey," she choked out. "Do… do you want to talk?"

He was silent. Then, his lip quavered. "I… I don't know." His voice shook. "I… I don't want to be alone."

She squeezed his hand and stepped closer. "Dean, I'm here for you. We don't have to talk. We can just sit. I'll do anything to help you."

He nodded and his frown trembled even more violently. Margaux could tell he was trying not to cry, especially in front of her. Dean was so brave, but he needed to let himself feel.

"Dean, it's okay to cry," she said softly.

"I-I d-don't want to," he said.

"You need to."

At once, tears erupted from his eyes and flowed down his cheeks. He hid his face in his hands and Margaux wrapped her arms around his back. Choking noises escaped his throat as he attempted to calm himself down. The noises he made were some of the most heartbreaking sounds Margaux had ever heard.

"Dean," she whispered into his chest, "it's okay. You're okay. Keep crying. Get it all out."

He rested his elbows on her shoulders and she began to rub circles into his back while he sobbed.

"S-she used me," he stammered. "I-I told her not to t-touch me, a-and she still did."

Margaux gripped his back and held him steady. She was surprised that he talked after he said he did not want to speak. "I know," she whispered. "Honey, I know. It hurts. It was evil and manipulative and she an abuser. Let it all out."

He sniffed and moved his hands from his face to the back of her head, which surprised her. He held her firmly against his chest and laid his cheek on the top of her head.

"M-mar, I-I should have broken up with her the first time she did it."

"It's okay. You broke up with her now. That situation is scary. You were scared."

"I-i honestly was. Mar, I'm going to sound like such a wimp, but I'm going to spill my guts out to you, okay?"

"Go ahead," she squeezed him. "And you're not a wimp."

His breath was quick and short, gasping for air several times in a row as he attempted to voice his thoughts. "I-It was terrifying, her touching me. I-I wasn't ready for that. I-I didn't want her to do it. A-and I know I'm a bloke and I'm supposed to always want it, but Mar, I didn't. S-s-she just grabbed it. Full on. S-she reached into my pants and wrapped her e-entire hand around it. A-and then she s-started t-trying to… you know, g-get me off, but Mar, I told her to stop. I told her and she didn't listen."

"What about the other two times?" she whispered.

"T-the second time, s-she undid my zipper a-and tried to— well, she didn't 'try,' she succeeded. She touched me again even though I-I t-told her n-not to undo m-my zipper. A-and… she saw it. S-she pulled it out of m-my pants. A-and then t-the last time—"

He gasped for air and Margaux rubbed comforting circles in his lower back. "T-the last time," he continued, "w-was at the Halloween party. S-she told me she l-loved me a-and then she grabbed me over the trousers a-and said… No, I don't want to say it in front of you."

"You can say it if you want," she said gently.

"S-she said she wanted to t-taste me."

"Oh," Margaux gasped.

"Y-yeah," he exhaled as he buried his face in her hair. "I-I'm r-really sorry to burden you with this, I-I j—"

"It's not a burden. I want to hear. I want you to tell me."

He sniffed once more. "I-I w-wish I could tell you everything."

"You can," she whispered. "You can tell me anything you want. I trust you, Dean, and I care about you a great deal."

He held her steady against his body for a moment, before he sighed. "I'm still scared. A-and I-I'm mad that… that my first… I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"You do," she prodded. "You just don't want to say it."

He gripped her hair and said in a small voice, "I'm really mad that my first time cumming with a girl was with her."

Margaux's mouth dropped open. "A-are you talking about the cumming in the pants thing or… Wait, Dean, how much did she touch you? You didn't… did you?"

"No," he shook his head. "No, I pushed her away. She never touched me for more than about ten seconds. I-I'm talking about the in the pants thing."

"You don't have to count that," she said. "It was an accident."

He placed his face in the crook of her neck. "I-It was. I-I wasn't thinking about her."

"No?" she asked gently. "Then don't count it. Even if you were, don't count it. Especially since she made fun of you for it."

He gasped against her skin and she could feel more of his tears touch her neck. "I-I know," he whispered. "M-mar, I-I don't… I just… I don't know what happened."

Margaux dug her fingers into his back. "It's alright! Dean, you don't have to defend yourself to me, much less anybody. Don't be embarrassed. It happens all the time."

He sniffed and she knew it would take time to convince him. "I've had a bloke do it while we were snogging," she said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I wasn't upset at him. I just told him to clean up and then I kissed him some more. It's fine, really. Actually, I've had two guys do it, but the one didn't acknowledge he did it."

"Who?"

"The first guy was Marshall Cummings, which—"

Dean immediately laughed, which raised her spirits. She giggled with him. "—is ironic, isn't it?"

Dean shook with mirth. "Very."

"And the other guy was Jack."

He pulled away to look at her face. His eyes were red and puffy, which still shocked her. "Sloper?"

"Yeah," she smiled faintly. "I know he did it. I even tried to call him out on it but he denied it. If he didn't, he was close."

"A-are you two… together?"

"No!" She shook her head immediately. "No, not at all. We're just friends."

"Who snog."

"Who snog."

She beamed as she gripped his back. He laughed and tapped his cheek to her head. "So, you won't be dating ol' Jack anytime soon?"

"Nope," she said. "We don't fancy each other. He actually fancies someone else."

"Really?" His eyes widened.

"Yeah," she smiled. "But don't tell. It's Faye Dunbar."

"So why doesn't he go after Faye, instead of you?"

"Why did you stay with Ginny at first?" she asked.

"For… for the snogging."

Margaux grinned. "I'm really good at snogging."

"I know."

Her lips parted as she stared into his shocked eyes. That was the first time either of them had mentioned their snog session since it had happened. Dean looked just as scared as she was. Neither of them spoke, until Margaux laughed nervously. Dean finally smiled, but he was clearly embarrassed.

"I was a good snogger?" she teased.

"Y-yeah," he said. "You were."

She laughed even louder. "Well, thanks." At once, she gasped. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"What?" he asked.

"I… I didn't have your permission to kiss you. I'm just as bad as Ginny, I—"

"No," he said firmly. "You are nothing like Ginny. I think… I think in that moment… We both wanted to kiss. B-but I didn't want any of that from Ginny."

Her eyes scanned his face, taking in his still surprised look.

"You wanted to kiss me?" she breathed.

He nodded and whispered, "I did."

Margaux had no idea how to reply. She recalled Ginny's words. The ones about "You just want to fuck Margaux." She stared into his eyes and tried to discern if there were any truth to these words. Not the "fucking" part. Dean wasn't like that. But she was trying to see if he felt anything for her, like Ginny's words and his own words would imply.

Dean watched her carefully, then he placed his face in her neck once more, which made her shiver. "Sorry," he whispered. "I hope his doesn't make things weird between us."

Margaux laughed and forced herself to snap out of her thoughts. "No! I mean, how can things get any weirder? I understand what you mean. Sometimes I get that feeling. That's how I started this thing with Jack, by just kissing him. And my thing with Eldon. And I kissed Jason. Merlin, I need to learn to stop that. I'm not a whore. I just like kissing."

"I know you're not," Dean reassured her. "And even if you were, it doesn't matter. You live your life however you want."

She smiled. "Thanks, Dean."

She ran her hands up over his chest and behind his head, where she held him steady against her neck. He exhaled and she could feel his lips touch her skin for the briefest moment. It was not a kiss, it was merely a sigh, but her stomach still tied itself in a knot. Her fingers slowly massaged his scalp and he moved his hands to her lower back. He pressed her against his body and whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For this. For everything."

She smiled. "No problem. Dean, you can tell me anything."

He leaned away from her neck to look in her eyes. For a moment, she thought he was going to say something. But he closed his eyes and touched his chin to the top of her head.

Her face was in his neck and she got another one of her sudden urges to kiss him, but she stopped herself. She could not do that to him again, especially not when he was hurting. But his skin was so tantalizing…

She laid her face against his neck and he gasped. She kept still as he ran one hand up to the back of her head and held her against him.

"Dean, are you okay?" she murmured on his skin.

"Y-yeah," he stammered. "R-right now I am."

"Good," she whispered. "If you're ever not okay, come talk to me. I want to hear you and help you if I can."

"You're helping me a lot right now," he said as he sunk his fingertips into her hair.

She tightened her grip on his head. "I'm glad."

He was quiet for a while, soaking up her breath on his skin, before saying, "I-I… really missed you, Mar."

"I missed you, too, Dean."

He sniffed once more and Margaux pulled away to look at his face. "Are you crying again?"

He nodded. "S-sorry."

"No," she said. Her hands moved from his hair to his face, where she gently cupped his jaw and stared into his eyes. "Cry all you want."

His face fell into a pout and he laid his forehead on hers. Her breath caught in her chest. Merlin, he had never been this close to her, save for their snog session. Everything he did today shocked her. He had cradled her head, buried his face in her neck, and now his full lips were only centimeters away from hers. He had no barriers today and she could not figure out why.

She should not be thinking about this. She should be concerned with his mind, not his body. But Merlin, was he close. He radiated an energy she had never felt before. Not just now, but every time he was near. His hot breath trailed down her neck and she had never wanted to kiss somebody more in her entire life. But this was Dean. Dean Thomas. One of her best friends. He could not be someone she was interested in. She did not fancy Dean.

Her lips parted.

She did.

She did fancy Dean.

Oh Jesus, she fancied Dean. She had for a while now and she knew it. She could deny it all she wanted, but she fancied Dean. She did not just want to snog him, it was more than that. She had fancied him at least since right before she kissed him.

She slid her hands from his jaw to his shoulders and he leaned away.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?"

His eyes scanned her face. "For… I've been really in your personal space."

"I don't mind," she whispered.

He cupped her jaw, which definitely took her breath away. "Mar, you're so wonderful."

She smiled. "Thanks. So are you."

He grinned and moved his hands down to her lower back. "Alright, tell me something good."

"Something good?"

"Yeah," he said. "Something to make me happy again. Something nice or funny that's happened to you lately."

She thought a moment. "I made an Outstanding on my Astronomy test."

Dean beamed. "That's great. You really like Astronomy, don't you?"

"Yeah," she smiled as her heart beat like crazy. "You remember!"

"Of course I remember. I remember everything you tell me. Try me."

"Hmmmm." Her heart still would not calm its beat as his fingers played with her shirt material. "When's my birthday?"

"This Wednesday. The twentieth. Do you know mine?"

"March third," she smiled.

He returned her smile. "You do know!"

"Yeah, of course! Okay, what's my favorite color?"

"Orange," he said simply.

"Yours is… green, right?"

"Yep!"

She laughed. "Maybe we would have won the Newlywed Game."

Dean chuckled but he bit his lips in, which Margaux knew he only did when he was embarrassed.

"I think we could have won," she smiled.

"Maybe," he said. "Too bad we're just friends."

Her lips parted and her heart stung. Dean did not fancy her. She was sure now. Why would he bring up being "just friends" unless he just wanted to keep her at a distance.

She nodded. "Yeah. too bad."

He stared into her eyes for a moment, just watching her every blink. Every fleck of brown and gold twinkled in his eye as he held his gaze steady on her.

"Why are you looking at me so much?" she nearly whispered.

He blinked. "Sorry! God, sorry. You're just… You're you."

"What?" she laughed.

"I missed you."

Her giggle did not quiet. "I missed you, too, Dean."

He pulled her head into his chest as he held her. She was not sure who was supporting who. The evening had started with Dean clinging to her, but at this point, she seemed to be clinging to him. His soft hands dug into her lower back and she rested her cheek on his chest, feeling his lungs fill and deflate every few seconds as the world fell silent around them.

"Thank you for letting me use you basically like a teddy bear."

She laughed into his jumper. "No problem."

She felt his lips touch the top of her head and heard the distinct noise of lips puckering. She gasped and Dean froze. Margaux remained completely still and silent as her heart beat wildly against her chest. Dean, too, was quiet. He had just kissed her. She had no idea what to say. Surely it was an accident. She decided to change the subject.

"So, how's your Potions essay coming along?"

Dean let go of his breath and said, "B-better than I expected."

"That's great. Do you—"

"Mar," he interrupted, "I didn't mean to kiss your head."

She pulled away from his chest to look into his scared eyes. "It's okay. I figured it was like a kiss on the cheek."

He nodded. "I-it was. I'm really sorry. I-I didn't mean to."

"Not a problem!" she said as she squeezed his shirt material. "It was like a kiss from a relative."

His face seemed to fall and she knew at once he did not appreciate being likened to a family-member. "Oh," she said. "Or not."

"No!" he argued. "You're right. That's a good comparison."

She grinned and touched her cheek to his, then moved to the other side and did the same thing, making kissing noises each time, despite her lips not touching him. Her giggled rang through the dusty hallway and she pulled away to look a him. "Like the royals do."

Dean laughed. He appeared genuinely amused. "Better be glad we don't look like the Royal Family."

"We haven't quite got the ears for it, have we?"

"Maybe if we add ours together, they'll equal one Prince Charles ear."

She laughed and moved her hands to his biceps. She could feel his strong muscles ripple as he circled her back. "We're about to miss curfew. Are you okay if we start walking back?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Definitely."

They broke apart and Margaux suddenly felt empty without him near. The pair trudged to the Gryffindor Tower, talking all about the answers in the game. After the door to the common room opened, they stopped near the girl's staircase.

"Goodnight, Mar," said Dean. "I'm really glad I have you to talk to."

"I'm glad, too," she smiled. "You can talk to me anytime. I'm always here for you. I hope you feel better."

Dean grinned and she bid him goodnight and climbed the steps to her dormitory, thinking only about his warm embrace.


	34. Chapter 34: Jack of All Thomas's

**OKAY FIRST OF ALL I AM SO SORRY. I haven't updated in like a month oops lol. I promise you, I've been writing, it's just not in order. Plenty more chapters will be coming after this and soon. Thank you for sticking around! I appreciate all the follows and reviews. More will be out shortly. ALSO, during that time, I went back and edited all the old chapters. I've added some parts to them or fixed characterization. The chapters I added/adjusted the most are 1, 9, 12, and 22. You don't have to go back and read, it will all still make sense, I just thought you'd like to know that there is a little more. Chapter 1: Dean is less of an asshole. Chapter 9: Margaux eats dinner with Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Chapter 12: Lenore and Neville in the forest with the thestral, it's much cuter. Chapter 22: Skip towards the bottom, Lenore and Neville snog a little more.**

 **.** **Margaux's POV**

Margaux crossed her arms as Jack Sloper took a seat next to her in the secluded hallway.

"Hey, Jack?" she asked.

He turned his gaze on her and spread his long legs across the ground. "Yeah?"

"Are you a virgin?"

His mouth dropped open, then he laughed. "What?"

Margaux grinned. "Are you a virgin? Like how much have you done? I'm genuinely asking, because I have follow-ups questions."

"Okay…" he said. He paused a moment. "Yeah, I'm a virgin. Like completely a virgin. Essie and I never did anything sexual and she was my only serious girlfriend."

"How many girls have you kissed or snogged?"

He searched his brain. "Seven."

"Okay."

"Why are you asking?"

"I'm…" She shook her head. "I'm trying to figure out if I can ask you advice."

Jack hesitated, then laughed once more. "Are you a virgin?"

She nodded. "Yeah. For sure, yeah. I haven't done anything."

"But how many boys have you snogged?"

She exhaled. "Merlin, I don't even know. Maybe… eight? Ten?"

"And how many serious boyfriends?"

"One. Sort of. I'm not sure. It was serious to him, it wasn't serious to me."

"That muggle you just broke up with?"

"Yep."

Jack nodded slowly. "So, what did you want to ask me?"

Margaux hesitated. She had no idea how to tactfully ask Jack this question, so she just came out with it. He would not understand the context. He was not present at the Newlywed Game disaster. "What would you do if you were a bloke and you were sexually assaulted?"

Jack's lips parted and his eyes filled with concern. "Were you sexually assaulted?"

"No!" she squeaked. "No, I said 'if you were a bloke!' This is about how it feels to be a guy."

He looked slightly relieved. "Do you know someone who this happened to?"

She nodded.

He hugged his legs into his chest. "What happened? Don't tell me names. Just the basics of what happened so I could tell you how I'd feel."

"This bloke was dating this girl. He didn't want to do anything sexual, but she did. She grabbed his penis once and he said no, then he explained why he doesn't want anything sexual. But she kept trying to grab him and wank him off multiple times while they dated. I think that really hurt him."

"Shit," Jack exhaled.

"Yeah, and I'm just trying to figure out how he feels. He's not very open with that stuff. How would you feel?"

"He's not an emotional guy?"

Margaux shook her head. "Not at all. And you are, so I want to know how you'd feel."

Jack's mouth dropped open. "I'm not emotional!"

Margaux squinted her eyes and Jack relented. "Whatever. So, you think he feels something but he won't say?"

"I don't 'think' I know."

Jack nodded and folded his hands as he thought. "Well… first of all I would feel very emasculated. I know you think masculinity is stupid or whatever, but it would hurt my pride. I would feel weak, because there is this expectation that men always want sex. And when you don't want sex, you're seen as… more feminine, I guess. So, you'll have to rebuild his pride because it's probably shattered."

Margaux nodded. "What else?"

"Hmm… I guess I would feel used. Like the girl only wanted me for my body. She obviously did not respect his wishes, which meant she did not respect him as a person. He probably feels like less of a man and less of a person, in general."

Margaux laid her jaw in her hands and sighed.

Jack continued. "I also think he's going to be reluctantly to be close to a girl for a little while. If it really hurt him, he won't like being touched anywhere there for a while. Not just right on the dick, but like, anywhere below the waist could stress him out. That's emasculating."

Margaux clicked her tongue. "Anything else?"

"I think he's just sad in general. Nobody deserves to be treated that way. Oh! Also, he's male. People don't give a fuck about male victims of sexual assault. Even less than they care about female victims."

"Yep. I know he's sad. He just won't tell me."

Jack stared at Margaux a moment, then he placed a hand over hers. His voice was a broken whisper. "It's Thomas, isn't it?"

Her lips parted and she met his gaze. He knew. She did not feel like lying to him any way. She trusted Jack to keep this between them. Slowly, she nodded.

Jack squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry. I knew he was hurting with her."

Margaux made another clicking noise with her tongue. It was a bad habit when she was nervous. "Yeah."

Jack was quiet. "You know I've snogged Ginny before?"

Her mouth dropped open. "You've snogged her?"

He cringed. "Yep. Not my brightest day. She is manipulative. She tricks you into doing things and staying with her. She's… damn good at snogging. Like, a bloody wizard at it. She literally had my shirt off before I even realized what was happening."

"When did you snog her?" Margaux gasped.

"Beginning of fourth year," he said. "About a month before I started dating Essie."

"Damn," she exhaled. "Did you fancy Essie when you snogged her?"

"Yes," Jack sighed into his hands. "Margaux, I'm telling you, she's like… like a mermaid. She lures men into traps. She didn't want anything from me other than a snog, praise Merlin, but she conned me into that. I don't even know how she did it. Like, I'm looking back, trying to search my brain how she got me into her room and I literally have no idea. Just talking. She can talk her way into anything."

"She couldn't talk her way into Dean's pants," Margaux frowned.

"That's probably what pissed her off," Jack said. "That's part of why she was so cranky. She wasn't getting her way and she couldn't figure out how to bend his will."

Margaux stomped her foot. "I hate her so much."

Jack nodded. "I do, too."

The pair was silent for a moment, until Jack turned to her and said, "So… I guess we won't be snogging tonight."

"Jack!" she laughed as she tossed his hand aside.

He laughed along with her. "I'm kidding!"

"Oh!" she found the courage to say. "I actually need to talk to you."

"What about?"

She hesitated, then leaned in to kiss his lips. Kissing him was not that same as it was just a few weeks ago. She found much less pleasure and glee in his lips than she wanted to admit to herself.

Finally, she leaned away.

"That wasn't talking, that was kissing," he smiled

She giggled. "No, really. Do you ever… feel guilty that you're snogging me and not Faye?"

Jack was quiet. He had a crush on Faye Dunbar for a while now, but he rarely discussed her around Margaux. "Well I can't snog her, can I?"

"You could," she argued. "If you made a move."

Jack shook his head. "No way, not yet. Why are you asking this?"

She shrugged and kissed him again. He pulled away with a huge grin on his face. "You fancy someone."

"No!" she yelled.

"You do!" He laughed. "Mar, who is it?"

"I don't fancy anyone."

He scanned her face. "Colin Creevey?"

She gasped. "No! Er— not no, that's mean. He's fine. He's my friend. He's just not my type."

"Ankur?"

"No."

He still stared at her. "Dean."

Margaux watched him for a while, examining his expression. "Yeah."

Jack let out a low noise of excitement. "I knew it. I bloody knew it. I knew you had a thing for him!"

"Shhh!" she said. "Jack, I don't want to hear it."

He leaned away from her, his face full of glee. "You doooo," he sang. "You fancy Dean."

"Jack…"

"Do you feel guilty kissing me but fancying him?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I can't really tell. I feel like I should feel guilty, but I don't."

"Why do you think you should feel guilty?"

Another shrug. "I have no idea. It feels like cheating."

"Like cheating on yourself? Or your heart?"

She nodded.

"Sometimes I feel that way. But then you snog that feeling away."

Her laugh echoed through his dormitory. "You need to go after Faye."

Jack shook his head. "No, thanks. You're the one who needs to go after your crush."

"I can't," she said. "He's hurting."

Jack nodded. "You're right. But… before this Ginny mess… last year… I was about ninety percent sure he fancied you. I'm still about ninety percent sure he fancies you."

Her eyes grew wide. "What?"

"Yeah," he said. "I see the way he looks at you. That's why, when we first met, I thought you two were together. You both look at each other all dopey."

"No—"

"Yes," he interrupted. "And at the Halloween party, you wouldn't take your eyes off him when he talked, and especially not in the hallway. Then you whispered all that about making sure he was okay. I knew deep down you fancied him."

Margaux sat stunned as Jack grabbed her hands. "We can stop this," he said. "If you want Dean, go after Dean. You can help me get Faye. We'll still be friends."

She nodded. "Yeah, we're still friends, no matter what. You're a really cool guy, actually. I'm impressed you can snog me and still not be an asshole to me. Most guys who want friends with benefits are assholes."

Jack nodded. "Nah. You're nice to me so I'm nice to you. Go after Dean, Mar. He will say yes, I guarantee."

"You think so?"

"You're nice, you're smart, you're insanely beautiful, of course he'll say yes. He'd be crazy not to."

"Thanks!" she beamed. "You need to go after Faye. The only thing holding you back is a lack of confidence. Before this quidditch stuff last year, you were perfectly fine. Now you're quieter and more reserved. You could get Faye if you put yourself out there. You're a nice guy and you're super fit. Really. You are so attractive."

"Thanks," he returned her smile. "We're both fit."

She laughed. "Okay, one last kiss."

He leaned in and kissed her lips, soft and sweet, then pulled away. "Are you going to make the first move or are you going to wait for Dean?"

Margaux furrowed her brow. "I'm… I don't know if he fancies me. I don't want to be the one to ruin our friendship. I want to be sure he feels the same for me. You really think he does?"

Jack nodded. "Go interrogate Longbottom."

Margaux gasped. Yes! Neville! "That's perfect!"

Jack laughed. "He'll be too scared of you to lie. You already intimidate him just by being loud and Lenore's sister. Get loud. Offer him some information on Lenore. He'll tell you anything."

"Jack!" she let go of his hands. "You're brilliant."

"Tell that to Faye."

"I'll investigate her, too," she said. "Verona is friends with her. We'll talk."

"Alright," Jack smiled. "In the meantime, did you invite Dean to your little ice skating party tomorrow?"

"No!" she said. "I thought you did!"

"Shit, I thought you did. I'll invite him tomorrow. I see him in the halls after first class."

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Alright," he returned her grin. "So… if we're not snogging we've got to figure out how to use this time. I say you tutor me in astronomy."

She laughed. Jack really was a great guy, but the feelings just weren't there. He was her friend, nothing more, and she knew she was the same to him. They had a unique relationship based on mutual respect, which was rare and fantastic.

"Sure. Pull out your homework."

"Also, teach me how to talk to Faye, because I keep stuttering."

"You? Stuttering?"

"I sound like a bloody idiot," he sighed. "I can't flirt. I get nervous around girls I actually fancy."

"Me, too!" Margaux gasped. "I'm the same way with boys. But they all think I'm flirting when I'm just being me. If I'm nervous, that means I fancy someone."

"I'm excited to see you with Dean tomorrow," he laughed.

"I don't know if I'll be nervous around him," she thought out loud. "I'm not sure. We're close friends. He's one of my best friends, actually. I've never fancied a guy I was good friends with. Maybe I'm more comfortable."

"We'll see," he teased.

She smiled. "Don't jinx me, Sloper."

.

 **Dean's POV**

"Thomas!"

Dean looked up from the ground and saw Jack Sloper raise his eyebrows, give him a half nod, and jog towards him. Oh good. There's nothing Dean wanted more than to talk to Margaux's lover.

"What's up, mate?" the boy gave another half nod as he shook Dean's hand.

"Not much," Dean gave a fake smile. "What's up with you?"

"Same ol' same ol'," he shrugged. "Anyway, I was going to ask if you're busy tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yep."

Dean mentally searched his calendar. He was completely free tonight, but what did Jack want? He was not exactly in the mood to hang out with people tonight.

"I've got some homework, but I think that's it," Dean said. "Why?"

"I'm asking you out on a date."

Dean blinked, then Jack laughed.

"Just kidding, mate, want to go ice skating for Margaux's birthday?"

Dean gave a small laugh, then stared at Jack. "You… want me to hang out with you?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "Of course, mate. Margaux wanted to make sure I invited you."

Jack wanted him to hang out with him and Margaux? That would be so weird, wouldn't it? Dean shrugged off his concerns and decided he could not say no. He was desperate to spend time with Margaux, even if he had to watch her with her snogging partner. "Yeah!" he said enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'll go. I've never been ice skating, though. I don't own skates."

Jack beamed and slapped him on the back. "Alright! Derek can get Ankur to conjure you some skates. He's really good at conjuring, I guess."

"Isn't he your age?"

"Yeah, he hasn't even learned conjuring. But Margaux says he can do it and I don't question her."

Jack laughed and gave him a wink, as Dean forced himself to smile. "Cool. Sounds good."

Jack patted his back yet again. "Great, mate. Seven-thirty. We'll meet outside the Great Hall."

"Okay, see you then."

Seven hours later, Dean stood outside the Great Hall with Ankur Puri, Luna Lovegood, and Colin Creevey. The four made light conversation, mostly about the weather. It was slightly awkward, but Dean managed to lead the conversation and engage everyone. After a few minutes, he spotted Margaux walking in front of Jack and Derek. She was ignoring Jack, who loudly discussed quidditch positions with Derek.

Margaux beamed when she met his eyes. "Dean!" she threw her arms wide open. Dean panicked. Was he supposed to hug her? He had no idea what she wanted, but he found his arms wrapping around her back. Her blonde hair skimmed his cheek and she laughed. "Oh!"

Dean pulled back and scanned her eyes. "Sorry! Did you not mean for that?"

Her warm smiled radiated onto him. "I mean, no, but it's fine! Thanks!"

Dean flushed red. What a fantastic start to the evening. Margaux turned to Luna and gave her a short hug, then waved to Ankur and Colin. Dean sighed. He had meant to welcome her with a warm greeting, a shout of "happy birthday," but instead he hugged her. What an idiot.

Jack clapped his hands together. "Come on, you lot! Let's get down there while we've got daylight!"

Dean followed the group outside, trotting by himself silently. Margaux bounced around from person to person, chatting animatedly about their interests. Dean stared down at the snow. He had no idea when all his confidence had drained. Last term, he would have strutted up to her and began talking. Now, he was just scared. He lied to himself, saying he was content to be a wallflower, but this was not him. He was never this quiet in his entire life. Even Neville and Seamus commented on how shy he was being lately.

Dean felt a hand tap his arm. To his left, Margaux smiled up at him. He immediately returned her smile and said, "Hi."

"Hi," she beamed. "How are you?"

"I'm great," he said. He paused a moment. She would see right through that fib. "I'm excited to be out here."

"Jack says you've never ice skated before."

"I haven't, no."

"I can help you!" she said enthusiastically. "I'm really good."

"You're good, huh?" he teased. "You think so?"

She jabbed his upper arm. "I know so."

"Well, I'd like to learn from the master."

"I'll have you doing triple jumps by the end of the night."

He laughed along with her. As she giggled, Dean's heart soared. It had been a long time since he had laughed with her. After all the past month's events, he knew to savor the moment, because it might not happen again. Hopefully though, she was serious about teaching him. He wanted to spend as much time with her as possible to make up for the two months without her.

"By the way, happy birthday," he said.

She flipped her hair out of her face. "Thanks!"

"I meant to tell you the moment I saw you."

"Well, that awkward hug told everything for you."

He met her teasing eye and he smiled anxiously. "Y-yeah, I figured."

Her shoulder nudged his. "You need to quit acting so nervous around me."

"Nervous?" he blinked.

"She's not here," Margaux said softly. Her wide eyes stared into his very soul. Dean knew immediately that she was talking about Ginny. "You don't have to worry about being too friendly with me. I miss the outgoing Dean."

"She thought we always flirted," Dean said quietly, staring down at the snow.

"So what if we did?"

His mouth dropped open and he met her eye.

"I'm not saying we did!" she said at once. "I'm just saying, you can flirt with whoever you want and so can I. You are one of my best friends, Dean. Just because a boy and a girl are friendly doesn't mean they're flirting."

Dean hesitated for a long time. "Do you think we flirted?"

Margaux shrugged. "Hmm… No. I don't think we're the type to flirt. I think we're just our usual warm selves. Besides, why would we be flirting?"

Dean bit his cheek. "True."

"You were flirting before our kiss, though."

He gasped. "What? How? No I was not!"

"You glancing from my lips to my eyes and back to my lips! Flirting!"

"That wasn't flirting!" he argued. "T-that was a moment of weakness!"

"Is that all it was?" she said suddenly.

Dean fell silent as he stared into her eyes.

"I'm just wondering," she said. "I want to clear some things up before we go back to being friends. Was it just a single moment of weakness?"

Dean's heart pounded in his chest. Technically, it was a moment of weakness. He was not able to resist her any longer. He had wanted to kiss her every day for nearly a year and that night, he allowed himself to give in. It was a dumb move. Life altering, actually. But it was a singular lapse of vulnerability that led him to kiss Margaux.

Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah."

Margaux nodded along. "Alright. That's what I thought. It didn't… mean something more?"

His heart thumped wildly. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Had you… thought about kissing me before?"

"I-I mean… I can't lie and say no."

She blinked. "So, you had?"

"Had you thought about kissing me?"

She nodded. "Sure. I've thought about kissing plenty of blokes."

"I've thought about kissing plenty of birds."

Margaux scanned his eyes, then laughed. "Okay. Cool. That was a nice chat."

Dean smiled, but he was still incredibly nervous. "That's all?"

"That's all I can think of right now," she grinned. "Do you have any questions?"

He had about a million questions. Do you fancy me? Do you fancy Jack? Do you fancy anyone? Could you ever fancy me? What did the kiss mean to you? Why did you kiss me? Why did it go farther than just a kiss? Am I good snogger? Did you get butterflies, like I did? How did it feel to be that close to me? Do you want to kiss again?

Instead, he shook his head. "Nope. I'm good. I'm comfortable with you, you know?"

"I know." She patted his arm. "I'm going to go talk to Jack a minute. Try to be sociable."

Dean grinned. "I'll try."

"Try not to flirt with anybody while I'm gone," she grinned.

Why, he wanted to say, so I can save all my flirting for you? Instead, he laughed. "I don't know, Collin in looking pretty good tonight."

Margaux giggled. "Derek!"

The boy turned around and smiled between her and Dean. "What's up?"

"Come flirt with Dean so he can get it out of his system."

"My pleasure!" he laughed.

Margaux traded Derek places and made her way up to Jack. Derek was an entire head below Dean, but still not as short as Seamus. His icy blue eyes twinkled friendliness. Like his brother, Roger Davies, Derek excreted a certain aura of warmth and passion. When you talked to the brothers, it was like nobody else in the room could catch your attention except them.

Derek crossed his arms and smiled, "So, I hear I'm Ginny's most attractive friend."

Dean flushed as he recalled his answer in The Newlywed Game. "From my objective viewpoint, yes."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "We all know who you wanted to say."

Dean met his eye and panicked. "W-who?"

Derek tilted his head towards the front of the pack, where Margaux touched a hand to Jack's back.

"No, I—"

Derek's laughed cut him off. "Honey, we all know."

Dean gulped. This could not be happening. "Does… does she know?"

Derek shook his head. "Not that I know of, and she tells me everything."

Dean squinted into the snow and sighed relief. "Thank god. Don't tell her."

"You're the one who needs to tell her," Derek prodded his arm. "Not yet. But soon."

"Not yet?"

Derek shook his head. "She'll think she's your rebound. She won't like that. Also, she's still snogging Jack."

Dean gulped. "Y-you're right."

Derek patted his back. "I know it hurts to see her with him, but they don't fancy each other. I know for a fact."

"They just like snogging," he breathed.

Derek nodded. "Like how you liked snogging Ginny at first."

"Do they… how often…" Dean regretted opening his mouth. It really did not matter to him how often she and Jack snogged. It really was none of his business. Still, it hurt him to think about it. The regret hurt the most. If he had not been stupid. If he had pursued Margaux instead of Ginny, he would not be in his position. That would be his sweater Margaux pinched from behind, instead of Jack's. He could be kissing her, telling her she was beautiful and smart and funny, rather than staring at her like a dumb, scared puppy.

"How often do they snog?" Derek finished Dean's question. "I don't know. Maybe once a week. They don't kiss, they snog. You know what I mean?"

Dean shook his head.

"It's not sweet little kisses in public, like relationships. It's more like they sneak off, snog the shit out of each other, and then go back to being friends."

Dean nodded and felt his heart plummet.

"But I don't think Margaux likes that."

He turned to view Derek. "No?"

"No," Derek said. "I think she views it as practice. I think they both do. Jack fancies Faye Dunbar, did you know that? And he just broke up with Essie Kuang last April. He really, really loved her. Margaux boosts his confidence until he can get back out there. And Jack boosts Margaux's confidence as well."

"How?" Dean asked.

Derek gave Jack a once-over. "Look at him. He's bloody fit."

"How does that boost her confidence?"

Derek grinned. "Knowing a guy that fit wants her."

Dean nodded. He understood that. That's a small part of why he stayed with Ginny. She was incredibly fit and all the boys wanted her. It made Dean feel good to be hers, until that all went downhill.

"But you're fitter."

Dean turned to Derek. "What?"

"You are wayyy sexier than Jack."

He started to argue. "No—"

"Yes," Derek insisted. "In my opinion, at least. And Mar and I tend to have the same taste in men."

Dean's cheeks warmed. "Thanks. But there's no way—"

"Thomas, shut up."

Dean froze as Derek's icy words hung in the air.

"Where did all your confidence go? Ginny took it from you. Remember how much swagger you used to have? You used to be so fun and self-assured and you would go after what you wanted. I see you on the quidditch field. You need to bring back that swagger or you're going to go the same route as Jack. A loser. And even worse, if you're not confident, Margaux will think something is wrong."

Something is wrong, he thought. But he could not tell Derek that. It did not matter anyway. He would snap back to his usual self in a few weeks. Hopefully. He just needed some time to process. All he did was nod. Derek patted his shoulder, then shouted, "Ankur! Conjure the skates!"

The group stopped at the shore of the Black Lake. The water was covered in a sheet of icy, but not quite thick enough to merit ice skating. Luna thickened the ice with a few flicks of her wand as Ankur conjured multiple pairs of skates after asking everyone for their size.

Every person flew out onto the ice, some more skilled than others. A half hour passed and Dean still sat on the shore, hesitant to begin skating. He watched the sky, or the trees, or Margaux, praying something would give him the courage to get out there. Finally, Margaux skated over to him and plopped down next to him.

"What's wrong, Dean?"

He bit his lip. "Nothing! At all! Sorry, I'm just scared to start."

Margaux nodded. "It's scary to start things. You'll get better as we go along. I can help you."

"Would you?"

"Of course," she smiled.

Margaux stood up, but he hesitated. She sat back down. "Okay, there's actually something wrong."

"No!"

She eyed him. "I'm going to sit here until you tell me."

"No, go skate."

"No, tell me."

Dean was quiet and so was Margaux. A full minute passed before he whispered, "Hey, Mar?"

She looked up at him with round eyes. "Yeah?"

He stared into her eyes for quite some time, not saying a word, just appreciating the way she was looking at him. Margaux cared about him more than anyone he knew. He knew she did not fancy him. But she cared about him, and sometimes that meant more than a crush.

"Dean?"

He blinked. "Have you talked to Ginny at all?"

Margaux shook her head. "She won't talk to me. We haven't talked in nearly a month. Over a month. She sleeps three meters from me and we haven't talked. It's weird."

"Is she… doing okay?"

Margaux's jaw clenched. "Dean… you are the one who should be hurt."

He broke their eye contact and tilted his head towards the ground. "I know."

They were both quiet for a while. He could feel Margaux's eyes on him. At once, he felt her gloved hand slip into his and clutch his fingers. His eyes flew to hers as his stomach flipped.

Her face was neutral before she quickly turned away. "Come on, help me skate."

She yanked him up and back into the lake. Dean's ankles buckled, but Margaux linked her elbow into his and saved him from falling. Their gaze met and she smiled.

"You're not the one who needs help skating," he said.

"No," she laughed. "But we can pretend."

The pair was going rather slowly, as Dean shuffled over the ice. "What are we pretending?"

"That I need a man's help."

Dean laughed. "No, I don't imagine you do."

She giggled and looked up at him. Dean took his eyes away from his feet and immediately tripped again. Their linked elbows tightened and Margaux's arm reached around his back to grab his waist. She held on to his hip and saved him from falling. Dean adjusted himself upright, but her hand stayed on his hip. He could feel every single on of her fingers pressed into his coat as she held him. He met her eye and she smiled. The pair fell into a rhythm, Dean propelling himself on his right foot as Margaux held him steady. They were silent for a while, skating in solace on the slick icy lake.

Suddenly, Margaux spoke. "Dean, if you're hurting, you can talk to me."

He felt his breath catch in his lungs. He could not force himself to turn his trapped breath into words. Finally, he managed to speak. "I-I'm… fine."

Margaux gripped his back tighter. "I know you're not. I don't want you to think you have to put on a false font for me. You've cried in front of me, Dean. That's incredibly intimate."

He could feel tears welling up in his eyes.

"You can cry all you want. Dean, you're one of my best friends. I am here for you. Seriously. There was some things you might not be able to say to Neville or Seamus. They are terrible with emotions. Especially Seamus. I'm not. I know how you feel. You don't even have to say anything. I see it in your eyes. I see how much pain you're in. And I don't want you to be sad any longer than you have to be."

Dean peeled off his glove with his lips and wiped his eyes on his bare hand. Margaux held him steady as she directed him towards the shore, away from her friends. "Come here," she whispered. "We're going to sit down a minute."

Dean hated himself. He hated crying. Merlin, he felt so stupid. Margaux could not see him cry this often and still think of him as strong. With her help, her fell into the snow on shore and she sat next to him, an arm curled around his back as she laid his head on her shoulder. She allowed him to silently drip tears for a moment, before she whispered, "Dean, why did you date Ginny for so long?"

He stared out onto the lake. "I… I don't know."

"Dean," she begged. "Please tell me. Please. I know you're hurting. I know you don't deserve to hurt. I just want you to tell me so I can help."

Dean was quiet for a long time. He sucked his lips into a pout and shook his head as he recalled his brief three month relationship with Ginny. "Because I was scared."

The words slipped out before he could stop them. Margaux's lips parted as she stared at him. Dean was terrified to look up, to meet her light green eyes which would no doubt be equally as sad as his own.

"Why scared?" she whispered.

Still, Dean made no noise. He could not find the words to describe how he felt. "M-mar, have you… have you ever been in an abusive relationship?"

Margaux shook her head, then she stopped. "I don't know. Michael was pretty shitty to me. He called me unintelligent and he was overprotective. I know that's not abusive but—"

"It counts."

Margaux looked back up at him and their eyes met. "It's a little abusive," Dean said. "Not physically, but mentally. And it might have gotten worse if you didn't break up with him."

She nodded. "Yeah. You're right. I'm glad I broke up with him. And I'm glad you broke up with Ginny. Back to you. Tell me how you feel."

"I just feel… tired," he admitted. "Like, I can't explain it. I'm just so angry and sad that it makes me tired. I'm not in the mood to do anything. I can't stop myself from being tired."

She nodded and grabbed his hand. Dean's stomach instantly twisted itself into knots. Was this the first time she had held his hand? He searched his brain. It was. Margaux had never held his hand before. He glanced from her hand to her eyes. Merlin, how he wanted to kiss her. She was his rock, his steady friend. She had never left him, but he did leave her. He regretted everything about the past three months. He did not fancy Ginny. He never did. He fancied Margaux. No. He loved Margaux. He knew how dumb that was. They weren't even dating and he thought he loved her? It was preposterous. But, he did. He was so deeply in love with this girl and he knew he would have to tell her his feelings one day.

The problem is, he could not do it right now. He did not want her to think she was his rebound. He loved her, but he could not do anything about it. He squeezed her hand, simply thankful she was this close to him. Her fingers gently played with his, rubbing his thumbnail under his glove with her fingerprint. Dean met her eyes. "Mar, you're so nice to me."

"You're so nice to me," she smiled.

"I mean, really. You are the kindest person I've ever met."

"Thanks," she beamed once more.

"Honestly. I wish I could be even half of how nice you are. You genuinely care about everyone. I know how much you care about my feelings."

"I do," she whispered as she squeezed his hand.

Dean hesitated, then he pulled her into a side hug, her shoulder in the crook of his armpit. He laid his cheek on top of her head and heard her audibly gulp. They pair sat like that for a moment, but something still nagged at Dean. He was going to ruin the moment if he allowed himself to speak, but here came the words out of his mouth.

"So, how are things going with you and Jack?"

Margaux laughed. "They aren't."

He blinked. "What?"

"We're just friends."

"But… No, I'm talking about how you two snog. How's that going?"

"Dean," she laughed. "We don't snog anymore. We've stopped that."

Dean's heart pounded in his chest. Jack and Margaux weren't together. They would not be together as a couple. She did not fancy him. He did not fancy her.

Margaux continued. "We are literally just friends. He doesn't fancy me and I don't fancy him. He fancies someone else and I'm trying to help him with that."

Dean could not stop himself from grinning. He merely nodded, until she nudged his shoulder. "Why are you looking so giddy?"

"Because…" he said slowly. "I don't know. I'm just glad you could do friends with benefits. A lot of people get attached."

"I know," she smiled. "I'm good."

He hugged her tighter, but stayed silent. He was too thrilled to speak. As he stared out onto the lake, he realized exactly how lucky he was. Sure, life sucked. He made some stupid decisions, he got mixed up with an abuser, he was still hurting inside, but he had love. He was so tired lately, so numb, but he still felt love. And that was beautiful. He nudged her head with his cheek. "Happy birthday, Mar."

"Thanks, Dean."

 **.**

 **Margaux's POV**

After her conversation with Jack, Margaux began looking for signs that Dean fancied her. The problem was, he acted like he always did. Dean was never one to flirt. He was just himself. Another problem was, he was depressed. His emotions were all thrown about. Chaotic emotions were not easy to read. As they sat alone at the lake, she was pretty sure he fancied her. After they stood up and began skating once more, she thought he did not fancy her. As they walked back to the castle, she knew he was just her friend. But when he invited her to his room, she visibly panicked.

"Not for that!" he laughed. "Merlin, who do you think I am?"

She smiled. "Sorry! You did not phrase that well."

"I'm just trying to give you your gift," he grinned. "You've got a filthy mind."

"Get up the stairs, Thomas! Give me my gift."

Dean smiled as she prodded him up the boys staircase. He knocked on his door, then unlocked it. The room was empty and Dean shook his head. "Thank God. Your sister and Neville have been hanging out in here."

"I don't want to hear!" she hissed. "Do NOT tell me."

Dean laughed. "Okay, sorry. Hang on. I've got to get it out of my dresser."

Margaux sat down on his bed as he rummaged through his cupboard. He came back with a cube-shaped box about the circumference of his arm span. She gasped as he plopped the giant box into her lap.

"What the hell did you get me?" she glanced between his eyes and the box.

"Open it and see," he urged her.

She stared into his eyes for a moment, then ripped open the brown paper. A blank cardboard box emerged and she tossed the paper aside. She glanced to Dean's eyes once again. The nerves showed on his face as he raised his brow. She returned to the box and unfolded the top flap. As she opened the box, she gasped. Inside was a globe. She yanked it out of the box and tossed the paper aside. It was an astronomy globe. A hand-painted astronomy globe. A small model Earth rested inside a large transparent sphere painted with all the major constellations. The transparent circle could swivel around the model Earth to show the proper constellation positions depending on the season. Each constellation was hand-drawn in gold paint with a tiny label denoting the each star in the series. Tiny cities on the model Earth sparkled every so often.

Margaux was speechless. Her mouth hung wide open as she stared at the globe. Tears formed in her eyes and one dripped down her cheek.

"Mar!" he gasped. "Why are you crying?"

She shook her head and wiped her tears.

"I'm sorry," he said, "do you not want this? I-I can get something better, I—"

"Shut up, Dean," she choked back a sob.

He fell silent as she wiped her face. "This is the nicest, most thoughtful gift anybody has ever given me. Dean…"

She placed the globe on her bed and cried into her palms.

"Margaux!" he said as he placed a hand on her back. "I-I don't understand why you're crying."

She wiped her eyes and she knew all her eye makeup was running down her face. At once, she turned and flung her arms around him. He gasped as her hands gripped his back and her face planted firmly in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held her just as tightly. Margaux stomach would not stop churning, over and over, like she was on a rocking boat. Her hand slid up to his hair and she held the back of his head.

"Dean," she murmured into his neck. "This is the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for me. Ever. You listen to me. You know I love astronomy. You put so much effort into this! It must have taken hours and hours of painting and research. I love it. I love this so much. If we were together, I would snog the shit out of you. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

Dean gulped near her ear. "O-oh, w-wow. Y-you're welcome."

She held him tightly, her face pressed against his warm skin. She heard the dormitory door slam, but she did not let up her grip.

"Margaux?" asked Seamus's voice. "Ha! What are you two doing here?"

Margaux let go of Dean and beamed. "Dean gave me my birthday present," she said as she pointed to the globe.

"I've seen it," Seamus said. "Every day for like two months. Trust me, I've seen it."

Margaux glanced over at Dean, who was obviously embarrassed. "Two months?" she questioned.

He nodded and looked down at the ground. Margaux hugged him again, then she worked up the courage to kiss his cheek. She beamed and leaned away to view his obviously shocked face. "Thank you," she repeated. "Thank you so, so much. I love it. I'll do something for your birthday."

Dean shook his head. "Y-y-you don't have to. I just wanted you to… to have something nice to encourage you to stick with what you love."

The smile had not left her face. "Thank you."

She hugged him one last time, then stood up. "I have to go. The prefects are doing bed checks tonight. Dean, you're the greatest. I seriously cannot express how much I love this and appreciate you. You're such a great person and a great friend. You're the nicest, most thoughtful bloke I know. Thank you."

Dean smiled up at her, then helped her place the globe back in the box. At once, he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. Their eyes met.

"You mean a lot to me, Mar," he whispered, so Seamus could not hear him from the bathroom. "You help me and you comfort me and I'm thankful for you."

She returned the hand squeeze, then he let go. She beamed. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Goodnight. You're the greatest."

"Goodnight, Mar."

She picked up her globe and headed toward the door. "Night, Dean."

.

The next morning, she opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was Dean's globe on her dresser. She smiled to herself. Dean was the kindest, sweetest boy on this planet. Margaux sprang out of bed. She was determined to find Neville and interrogate him today.

The day went by agonizingly slowly, until classes ended and students broke before dinner. Margaux walked the hall of Hogwarts in search of the tall, awkward mess of brown hair that was Neville Longbottom. Surely he was around here somewhere and hopefully not with Lenore. She had celebrated her birthday with Lenore the day before and the morning of, so Lenore would not be in the mood to talk to her any way. Good. She needed Neville alone for this.

After a half hour of searching, she spotted the boy, by himself in the hallway.

"Neville!" Margaux practically screeched across the hallway.

The boy stopped in his tracks and turned around. He smiled nervously. "Hi, Margaux."

"Hey, hi," she raised her voice more than usual, per Jack's advice. She sped walked towards him and then crossed her arms. "Anyway, I need to talk to you."

"A-about what?"

"A few things."

He stared at her a moment and his face grew worried. "I-it's not about Lenore is it?"

"It might be. She might come up."

He nodded. "O-okay, what did you want to say?"

She pointed to a windowsill near them. "Sit down."

The boy obeyed immediately and Margaux mentally rolled her eyes. This kid was so easy to boss around and she knew Lenore enjoyed that.

"So, how are things going with my sister?"

"G-great," he stammered. "R-really great, as far as I know. W-why, has she said something?"

"No. She really fancies you."

He smiled. "O-okay, good."

"You don't have to stammer," she said brashly. "It's just me. Your kind-of-sister-in-law."

He smiled, but still looked uncomfortably shy. "I-I'll try not to."

"How's Dean?"

Neville bit his cheek. "Better."

"That's good. He still seems sad."

Neville fiddled with his hands. "He is. He… he's really conflicted."

"Why?" Margaux knew to ask her questions in quick succession to try to confuse him.

"Because… he wants to move on but he's scared."

"Move on? Does he fancy somebody else?"

Neville nodded, then stopped himself. "I… I don't know."

Margaux examined him. "I know he does."

"Oh," his eyes widened. "He told you?"

"Yeah," she blatantly lied. "He said he fancies someone else."

"And he didn't say who?"

Neville was very obviously confused. This conversation was going so fast. Neville was a highly intelligent guy, but it took his mind a minute to process things fully. The faster she talked, the faster his mind would be forced to react, so he got less time to think through his answers. He got nervous when he started thinking.

"Nope," she said. "Who is it?"

"It's… I shouldn't say."

Now was her chance. She had to be quick. "Is it me?"

Neville's jaw dropped as he looked up at Margaux. His eyes flickered across her face for a long time, but he stayed silent in fear.

"It is, isn't it?" she whispered.

"I-I shouldn't—"

"I fancy him."

Neville gasped. "You… fancy him?"

"Yes. I'm trying to find out if he fancies me so I can make a move."

"He… he does."

"He does?"

Neville nodded. "Yeah."

"Really?"

"Really. Quite a bit, actually."

She squealed in delight. "So you think I should make a move?"

"I-I definitely think so. But not when he's sad. Do it when he's in a good mood."

"Okay," she beamed. "Thanks, Neville!"

"Y-yeah," he said. "P-please don't tell him I told you."

"I won't! I really do appreciate it! Is there anything you want to ask me in return? Like about Lenore?"

"Er— I don't think so."

"Come on! There's gotta be something!" She clapped her hands together. "I can tell you about the time we were kids and she pushed me down so hard I had to get stitches in my forehead."

Neville's eyes widened. "What?"

"We did stuff like that all the time," Margaux grinned. "Our parents didn't watch us. We used to settle arguments by going out to the garage and sword-fighting with brooms. Whoever cried first lost the argument."

Neville's lips now hung open and he was clearly confused. "I thought you two were best friends?"

"We are," she grinned. "That's just our relationship. We've done some wild shit. Are you sure you don't have any questions?"

"N-no," he said.

Margaux smiled at him. "She really likes you, you know?"

He blinked heavily. "She said that?"

"No," Margaux shook her head. "She never says anything. But I can see it in her eyes. She's never had that look before."

"W-what look?"

"Like she loves someone."

Neville's mouth dropped open. "L-love?"

Margaux continued to talk rapidly. "Yeah. She's weird about that stuff. I've told boys I love them and I've had them say it to me. I've done it after a month. I don't think it's a problem or a big deal. Lenore does. She's closed-off. But deep down, I know she loves you, at least according to my definition of love. Maybe not hers."

"W-what's your definition?"

"I think love is just looking at someone and always wanting the best for them. But Lenore thinks love is a state of being. I think it's an emotion."

Neville nodded slowly. "Wow. Okay. Thanks."

Margaux nudged his shoulder. "I like you two together."

She could see him blush. "T-thanks."

"How long have you fancied her?"

"Er—"

"It's at least a year, isn't it?"

He looked down at his hands. "Y-yeah."

Margaux nodded. "How long has Dean fancied me?"

"I-I really don't think I should—"

"It's a while, too, isn't it?"

Neville finally looked up into her eyes and he nodded silently.

"A year?"

Another nod.

Margaux's heart beat through her chest. "Okay. Shit. I feel bad. I didn't even notice."

"You and Lenore don't really seem to be good at that."

Margaux genuinely laughed at Neville's words for the first time. He merely smiled. "Lenore's right," she said. "You are funnier than we know."

"S-she said that?"

Margaux nodded. "Yep. She thinks you're funny and I just went, '… uh huh.' But I guess you really are."

His smile was shy but warm. Margaux returned the friendly grin. "You know, she told me you make her laugh and that's why she started fancying you."

"R-really?" he blinked.

"Yep."

Neville was quiet a moment, but he looked like he wanted to say something, so Margaux stayed silent. He opened his mouth once, then shut it. After a pause, he asked, "D-did she ever talk about me before we started dating?"

Margaux nodded. "Not much. Lenore's private with her feelings. But every so often she would mention you this summer. I knew she fancied you before you two started dating. I knew way back in December that you fancied her. I knew she fancied you around July."

"W-when did you know?"

"When she phoned you on your birthday," Margaux smirked. "She got so frantic. It was like eleven-thirty at night, we were dancing pretty crazy and suddenly she gasps and starts freaking out because she forgot. She felt really bad. And that's when I knew she fancied you. She doesn't just freak out over little things. You are a big thing to her."

Neville's face flushed and he grinned like a giddy idiot.

Margaux laughed. "She tore the attic apart trying to find your birthday present. That book was hidden in all sorts of junk. She made me watch the door so our parents wouldn't hear her rooting around up there and then ask questions. She really wanted you to have it. And I knew especially then that she fancied you, because we've lived in that house for six years and Lenore has been in the attic exactly twice. She thinks it's dirty and disgusting up there, but she braved it for you."

Neville smiled. "I… I really fancy her."

Margaux grinned. "You do?"

"Yeah," Neville said. "It reminds me of something Dean did for you."

Margaux's brain sent of alarms. Her plan was working. She had convinced Neville to talk to her about Dean.

Neville continued. "He… he's gave you your present right?"

"The globe?"

"Yeah. He's been working on that for months."

"Two months, I know."

"No," Neville said. "He started it this summer. He got the idea last March."

"March?" she exhaled.

He nodded slowly. "He made everything by hand."

"Oh my gosh," she breathed.

"After he gave it to you, last night… I haven't seen him that giddy in a long time. He was practically skipping instead of walking. He… he told me what you said, about how if you two were dating, you would have snogged him."

"I would have!" she gasped. "I almost did. I had to hold myself back. I started sobbing and I think a tiny part of that was because I couldn't kiss him."

Neville looked shocked. "How long have you fancied him?"

Margaux shrugged. "I honest to god have no idea. I think I've been in denial about it for a long time. Or I didn't realize what was right in front of me. Like Lenore. She's a bloody idiot."

"W-why?"

"She'd talk all the time about the nice things you'd do for her or how you treated her, and then in the next sentence she would complain about how shitty men were. Like, girl. He was right in front of you."

Neville nodded. "S-she would tell me her problems with boys and I-I just wanted to tell her that I would never treat her that way."

"I want to do that for Dean," Margaux whispered. "He deserves to be treated well. Ginny is a fucking cunt. I want him to know I would never hurt him."

"He knows," Neville said. "I'm sure he knows. That's why he loves you."

Margaux's eyes widened and she gasped. "Loves me?"

"Fancies you!" he yelled. "Fancies you! Sorry, I'm… I'm not thinking right."

Margaux scanned his face, worried and not looking her in the eye. He was lying. She gasped. "He does. He loves me."

Neville shook his head. "No, Mar—"

"I'm not going to freak out like Lenore does."

Neville finally met her eye.

"If he loves me, he loves me. Actually, I'm sure he does. He's fancied me for a year? He loves me. And you're in love with Lenore."

"N-no, I—"

"Oh shut up," she said. "I'm not going to tell her. She's so weird about this. When you love someone, you love them. You can't deny it. You love Lenore. I see it in your eyes and she does, too."

"S-she told you that?"

"No. I'm not stupid. She hides behind her coldness, but she's just as sensitive as me. She's just not as reactionary. When she feels something, she won't act on it. I will. You will. She won't. Dean won't. I know how their brains work."

Neville stared at her for a while, then shook his head. "You're right."

"I know damn well I'm right," she said. "You love Lenore and she loves you deep down, but she's too stupid to admit it."

"C-can y-you not call her s-stupid?"

Margaux's face softened. "Okay, first of all, we're sisters. When I call her stupid, I don't mean it. I'm sure she calls me all sorts of things. She doesn't mean any of them. I don't literally mean she's stupid. She's being stupid and I'm going to call her out on it. Second, I'm really impressed you stood up to me. Like, damn, call me out, Longbottom. You keep doing that to everyone. Now, tell me something."

He nodded nervously.

"How did Dean feel after I kissed him this summer?"

Neville cringed. "He… he was heartbroken. Completely, utterly, confused and broken."

Margaux's face contorted into melancholy. "I-I really am sorry I did that."

Neville shook his head. "I-I mean, I don't think he regrets you kissing him. O-obviously he really liked it. But I think he regrets how he handled it. Don't trust me on this, but I think—"

"He regrets Ginny."

He nodded slowly. "He regrets Ginny, but more importantly, he regrets not telling you before. Or even telling you right after. I think, if he had been in his right mind, he would have begged you to talk to him and he would've stopped you from leaving the room so he could tell you. But…"

"The snogging messed with his brain?"

"Yeah," Neville nodded. "I-it tends to do that."

Margaux grinned. "So how did you feel when you kissed Lenore for you first time?"

Neville sighed. "Just… I don't know. L-like… I was kissing a goddess."

Margaux's lips parted. "Do you still feel like that?"

He nodded. "Every time. Except, one time she had food in her mouth and I didn't know. I went in for a kiss and I accidentally licked the food a—"

"Ew!" Margaux screamed. "Please stop!"

Neville laughed while Margaux covered her ears. "S-she thought it was pretty funny."

"You two are gross," Margaux shook her head. "She was kissing you with food in her mouth?"

"I thought she was, but she was actually just chewing."

Margaux practically yelled with laughter. "Nooo!"

Neville smiled as she screamed. "O-okay, Mar, I actually have to go. I'm meeting Lenore in fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Margaux grinned. "Don't tell her about this conversation."

His eyes shifted. "I'm… I'm not going to lie to her."

"I'm just saying, don't bring it up unless she asks. Don't lie. Just don't walk up to her and say, 'Hey I talked to your sister today,' you know?"

"O-okay, why?"

"Because she's nosy," Margaux grinned. "And I need to plan what I do about before she comes up to interrogate with with a thousand questions."

"I say you just obviously flirt with him. Like, don't make a move. Let him do it."

"To make him feel masculine."

Neville nodded. "He needs it, after Ginny. A pride boost."

Margaux sighed. "I can do that. But Lenore was obviously flirting with you and you didn't see it."

"She was not."

"Neville," she rolled her eyes again. "You're very thick, you know that? She was flirting with you. When we got drunk on the carpark, she was practically throwing herself at you. She literally did throw herself at you when we walked down the stairs."

"B-but she was drunk."

"She threw herself at you in Nandos, too."

Neville's face flushed red. "S-she did grab my arm."

"She grabbed everything that day," Margaux rolled her eyes. "I was about to kill her if I had to witness any more of that schtick. She grabbed the back of your shirt while we were in the shopping plaza and I about screamed. She grabs everything. Oh my god, one time a few weeks ago I saw her grab your ass and I wanted to die."

Neville was now completely red. "Y-you don't like PDA either?"

"I don't like seeing my sister groping men, no."

He brought his fingers to his cheek and Margaux laughed. "Yes, you are blushing."

"I-I can feel it."

"I can see it."

Neville smiled just a tiny bit, then said, "Anyway, Dean isn't as dense as me. He'll figure it out. And I'll hint at him to make a move."

"Thanks," Margaux grinned.

"J-just grab at Dean. I mean… Mmm… Actually, I'm not sure if he'll like being grabbed too much."

Margaux's grin faded. "I've thought about that."

Neville nodded silently, so Margaux picked up the conversation. "I'll try not to be too sudden. I don't want him to… you know… flashback. I'm definitely not touching anywhere near there, but I'm sure it evokes the same emotion no matter where."

"Yeah," he whispered. "Just go slow. You're sensitive. You'll understand how he feels."

"I hope so," Margaux whispered. "I really hope so."

Neville stood up from the windowsill. "I'll talk to you later."

"See ya," she said. "Thanks for the chat. Go grope my sister."

He blushed red and she laughed. "I just like embarrassing you."

"T-that must run in the family."

He joined her giggles as he walked away, leaving Margaux alone.


	35. Chapter 35: Do You Like Bill Clinton?

"Hi, baby," Lenore giggled as she snaked her arms around the back of Neville's neck.

"Baby?" he laughed loudly and met Lenore's eye. "I thought you hate that."

"I do," she smiled as she kissed his jaw. "I'm just saying it because you're being a baby."

He feigned offense. "How am I being a baby?"

She laid another kiss near his ear. "'I don't know how to do this.' 'I'm not good at Defense.' 'I'm tired of this.'"

She was mocking his previous complaints during class yesterday. Neville gasped. "It's all true!"

"It's not that hard!" she pointed at his quill. "Just write the damn essay."

Lenore had been fighting Neville to complete his Defense essay before that night so they could go on a date. However, Neville was stuck. He sat in the library, trying to figure out how to end this essay. He was supposed to spend the afternoon with Lenore, but it was one p.m. and he had another foot of parchment to write. Lenore spotted him, said goodbye to Alicia, then made her way over to him. Neville would not lie— he secretly loved that she had called him 'baby,' even it was mocking.

"It's Saturday," he complained. "This isn't due until Monday."

"Alright! I'm not your grandmother. I'm not going to nag you. Only you can nag you."

He rolled his eyes and she squeezed the sides of his neck between her biceps in retaliation.

"Len!" he laughed.

She kissed his cheek and giggled. "Alright, if you don't want to work on this essay, how about we go to your room?"

He gulped. "A-and do what?"

"And discuss the current state of geopolitical affairs."

He tilted his head up to see her face. "Is that a metaphor for snogging?"

She laughed and sat down in the seat next to him. "No. How do you feel about the Dow Jones sudden climb after Bill Clinton's reelection?"

Neville blinked. "Who is Dow Jones?"

"It's the name of the stock market. Like London Stock Exchange. Do you know who Bill Clinton is?"

"Yes!" he argued. "I'm not completely ignorant of muggle culture."

"The other day you asked me how muggles tie their shoes."

"Okay!" he smiled. "I mean, I knew you could use your hands, but—"

Lenore gasped. "Do you not know how to tie your shoes?"

He cringed. "Umm… no."

"Neville! That completely went over my head when you asked that. You don't know how to tie a pair of trainers!"

She glanced down at his shoes. "So you just use magic? Every single time?"

He nodded sheepishly. "Y-you don't?"

"I never even considered using magic until you told me it was possible. Wow. We learn how to tie shoes in primary school."

"I-I learned the spell when I was six. I couldn't do it until I was eight, but… I learned it."

"Who tied your shoes?"

He flushed. "I used the velcro ones."

She laughed. "Oh my god. I can't even believe wizards sometimes."

"Okay, missy," he smiled and grabbed her hand, "you're superior. I get it."

"Ooo, 'missy,'" she grinned. "That's cute."

"'Baby' was cute."

She laughed. "No it was not."

"Okay then," he said. "Maybe it's just you who's cute."

Lenore's cheeks actually lit up pink, which surprised Neville. His mouth tumbled open. "You're blushing!"

"Shut up," she let go of his hand and covered her cheeks. "Get back to the task at hand. Finish this essay or come up to your room with me."

He laughed and kissed her forehead, but she shrugged him away. He knew she enjoyed this, she was only putting on an act. Lenore pretended not to like mushy, romantic flirting, but she actually did. As soon as they met in private, he knew she would start being just as flirty as him. It was being in the middle of the library that she did not like. He placed his parchment, books, and quills in his bag and followed her upstairs. Sure enough, as soon as they got out of the library, she grabbed his hand.

"Oh, now you want to flirt?" he smiled.

She squeezed his hand. "No, I don't want you to get lost trying to find your way back."

"I live there!" he laughed.

"You could get lost in a room with only one door."

He chuckled along with her. "I know what you're trying to do."

"What?" she played along.

"You like snogging me when we're a little cross with each other. You're trying to annoy me on purpose."

She smiled. "Is it working?"

"What? Me getting annoyed or me wanting to snog you?"

"Both."

"Well, I'm not annoyed, but I do want to snog you."

She laughed and nudged his shoulder. "Umm, who said we were snogging? I'm trying to talk about the stock market."

Neville lowered his voice and leaned int near her ear. "You can talk about it while I kiss all over your neck and shoulders."

"Neville!" she laughed, obviously shocked at his blatant words. Even Neville was surprised those words came out of his mouth. He could feel his face warm. Lenore squeezed his hand and would not stop giggling. "Oh my god! You're quite brave today."

His face flushed even warmer and Lenore stopped walking. She placed one hand on his jaw the other on the back of his head and yanked him down for a kiss. Her lip movement were smooth and adoring, until she broke kisses with a smile. She moved to his ear and whispered, "You're so sweet."

She let go of him and continued her path towards his dorm. Neville blindly followed her. "Bloody hell," he finally managed to say. "So, you are trying to flirt with me?"

"No."

"Lenore," he sighed.

She giggled and began running towards Gryffindor. Neville forced himself to run after her. He still had no idea what she wanted, but he would chase her to get it for her. She finally stopped running at the Gryffindor entrance, then placed her hands on her hips and took deep, overdramatic breaths.

"I know you're being theatrical, but I'm actually breathing like that," he laughed as he copied her hands on her hips.

She smiled. "I'm being theatrical to cover up the fact that I'm actually breathing harder than I should be."

He exhaled a laugh, then took a deep breath and said the Gryffindor password. Lenore stepped inside first and led him up the stairs to his room. She was quite comfortable leading the way now and he knew as soon as he opened the door she would plop down on his bed. He loved how comfortable she was around him now. Sure enough, his dorm was empty so she made a beeline for his bed. She took off her shoes and sprawled out on his comforter as he locked the door.

"Comfortable?" he teased.

"It's freezing in here, isn't it?" she asked.

Neville tilted his head toward the fire-less heater in the center of the room. "The heat's not on."

"Well get it on!"

Nevill dropped his backpack by his dresser, then tinkered with the heater until a fire lit up high in the metal cage above his head.

"Do you mind if I get under your covers?" she asked.

Neville messed with the heat settings. "Why not, you've already made yourself welcome."

"Good," she laughed, "because I'm already under them."

Neville glanced back at her and chuckled as he shook his head. Her entire body, even her head was underneath his sheets. He closed the controls panel of the heater, slipped off his shoes, and lifted the covers up so he could get in bed with her.

"You're letting my heat out!" she whined as he fiddled with the blankets.

"Shhh," he laughed.

He pulled the blankets over his head and Lenore flipped to her other side to see him. Blankets completely engulfed the pair, but Neville could still see Lenore's face merely half an arm's reach away from him. He heard rattling behind her lips.

"Are your teeth chattering?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Merlin," he smiled. "You do get cold easily."

"A good boyfriend would pull me closer instead of teasing."

Neville scooted next to her and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head. "I was going to do that after I got done teasing."

Lenore laid silently in his arms for a couple minutes, absorbing his warmth. Her teeth finally stopped chattering. She kept rubbing her legs together and Neville could not hold in his laughter any longer.

"You're like a cricket."

She gasped. "How?"

He began copying her motions. "Moving your legs like this! Cheep cheep! Cheep cheep!"

She laughed loudly. "You think that's what noise crickets make? 'Cheep cheep?'"

He made the noise again and continued rubbing his legs together. She joined him in the noises, giggling like crazy and clinging to his jumper. They laid there, moving their legs and "cheep"-ing. Neville had not laughed this hard in a long time. Lenore could not stop laughing. She had tears in her eyes and was practically screaming with amusement. Finally, she moved up to his lips and kissed him. Still, she smiled and Neville made one more double "cheep"-ing noise, which got her laughing again. They were being so stupid and they knew it.

"Quit," she giggled before kissing him again.

"Are you warm now?" he murmured on her lips.

"Yes, thanks," she said before slipping her tongue in his mouth.

His stomach flipped as she deepened their kisses. Her hands moved to the back of his head and she pressed her entire body against him. Neville slid down lower in his bed, so that the sheets would stay firmly over his head no matter how much he moved. Without breaking their kisses, he rolled over on top of her, which clearly surprised her. She slid down on the mattress, too, and he followed. His legs did not exactly fit, so he had to awkwardly scrunch his knees and point the bottom half of his legs outward. She wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands all over his back. Merlin, did she feel good today. Her kisses were sweet, her hands were frenzied, and her feet played with his calves.

He moved down to her jaw and neck. "Tell me about the stock exchange," he murmured.

She began laughing once again. "Okay. So… the stock exchange normally goes up after a presidential election. Going up is good. It means more business is being done and the economy is stronger. Bill Clinton was just elected to a second four-year term as president. He has a pretty balanced budget and the U.S. is actually on track to have a surplus of government money. That's extremely rare. Governments normally operate in debt. Even the Ministry of Magic here is running a deficit. So the U.S. is in good shape."

"Do you like Bill Clinton?" Neville muttered as he kept kissing her. He liked hearing her talk about this stuff. She knew so much.

"I do, yeah. My parents don't. My dad can't vote, he's not a citizen, but my mom is. She voted Bob Dole via an absentee ballot."

"Why do you like him?"

Lenore gasped as he bit near her collarbone. "Shit, Nev. Okay, I like him… I don't know. He's just very charming and friendly. He's a Democrat, which is kind of like… I guess like the Labour Party here, if you know about muggle government. It's more liberal, but not very progressive. Anyway, I tend to lean more Democrat, but my mom and dad always vote Conservative."

"Your mom can vote in both elections?"

"Yeah. Dual citizenship."

"Could you vote in both?"

"I… I think so. I'm not sure. I can definitely vote in the American ones. I have British citizenship through both parents. And I live here… I guess I could."

At once, she giggled. "Is this getting you all hot and bothered?"

Neville laughed. "Oh yeah, I'm about to tear your clothes off."

Her giggled flooded his ears as she moved her hands to his hair.

He laughed along with her. "But really, I like hearing you talk about politics and the economy and all that. If you still want to be a newspaper reporter, go for it."

"I do," she smiled. "Thanks. You really like hearing me yammer on about it?"

"You like hearing me yammer on about herbology and the Ministry?"

"Yes." She gasped against as his tongue hit her skin. "Wow, okay—" She gasped again and writhed underneath him. Neville kept up his motions, sucking at the crook of her neck and pouring his complete devotion into each kiss. He wanted to ask if she enjoyed his, but he did not want to lose his rhythm. She obviously liked something about it, so he kept his up.

"Neville," she moaned. "Merlin."

A ripple ran across his torso as she words hit his ears. He reached under her shirt and gripped her bare waist, which made her gasp again. Merlin, she would not stop gasping and convulsing under his body. Her back kept arching violently, over and over, as her bum dug into his mattress. Her hands clung to his head and massaged his hair. He could not believe he was doing this to her. What the hell was he doing anyway? It seemed like how he normally kissed her neck. Maybe she was just in the mood today. She placed her foot on the mattress next to him and bent her knee, so that her inner leg held his side. Neville groaned and she giggled.

"Nev," she exhaled. "Wait."

He paused his movement and glanced up at her eyes. She smiled faintly, then closed her eyes. "Can we just lay down and talk for a little while?"

"Y-yeah," he agreed. "Y-you don't want to snog?"

"I do!" she argued. "Merlin, that was so bloody good. I just… I don't want to get carried away. And I'm in the mood to talk to you. We haven't had like a big, deep conversation in a while."

He scanned his brain. "Yeah, it's been, what? A week?"

She giggled and nudged him. "Prat. I'm not counting those two confessions, if that's what you're talking about. I mean like, upbeat conversations. Besides, those two were over two weeks ago."

He smiled and laid down next to her. "Okay. I'll talk. Or listen."

"Thank you," she smiled, then kissed him once more. She leaned slightly away from her face. "Really. You don't know how much it means to be to have someone to talk to, especially after Katie and Raquel."

Neville nodded and held her tight. He kissed her lips softly, which she reciprocated until she began talking.

"So, how's life?"

"Is that how you start a deep conversation?" he smiled.

"I'm trying to warm you up. You always need to be eased in to conversations."

"I think you're moaning eased me in pretty well."

She laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. "You know what I miss?"

"What?"

"I miss you being scared of me."

"What?" he laughed.

"I do," she giggled. "I wish I could rewind time and go to different points in our friendship and just snog you. I think about that a lot. There were so many good times for us to have kissed and we didn't. I wish the first kiss would have been more of a surprise. I would have loved to have scared the shit out of you with an unexpected snog session."

His eyebrows seemed to nearly be at his hairline. "W-wow. I-I've thought about that, too. I don't know what I would have done."

"I'm trying to think of some good moments for me to have kissed you," she smiled. "I clearly remember wanting to snog you when you got back from the Ministry, even though I didn't really fancy you yet."

"Y-y-you wanted to snog me back then?"

"Yeah," she flushed. "I really… I wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed sad. You hugged me back and that's what got me. You had always been reluctant to touch me and I figured that was out of respect. Even when we were friends, sometimes I'd touch your arm or something and you'd tense up. I thought you were like me, how I don't like to be touched. Now I know it's because you fancied me."

Neville nodded slowly. "Y-yeah."

She smiled. "Well, in the hospital room, you hugged me back almost immediately. There was a little hesitation, but you put on hand on my back and I could feel your fingers digging into my skin. And you placed your face closer to my neck. That's when I wanted to kiss you, but obviously I wouldn't have done it."

"Why not?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because that would have been weird, wouldn't it? I just barely figured out you fancied me. I only thought you were cute, I didn't truly fancy you. It would have taken attention away from you and your injuries. Also, all those people watching us. It just wasn't the right time at all. But that's one of the first times I remember thinking, 'I want to kiss him.'"

"I-is that the first time you wanted to kiss me?" he asked.

She thought a moment, then answered, "No. Do you remember the Seven Minutes in Heaven game?"

He nodded, recalling the time Pansy publicly ridiculed him so badly that it drove him to slight tears.

"I wanted to get you."

Neville blinked once. "You wanted to get me? Like in the game?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Bloody hell," he exhaled. "Why? Really? No, you couldn't have."

"I did," she said softly. "I remember going though my options and thinking, 'Well at least Neville would be respectful.'"

"I… I… I guess you can call fear 'respect' if you want."

She giggled. "What would you have done if we got matched?"

"I… I don't know," he said after much thought. "I-I almost bet I would have been too scared. We were just becoming somewhat close friends, you know? I could live with being your friend, but I didn't want to… I didn't want things to be awkward and risk us not being friends. I-I'm so glad we weren't matched. What would have happened is, we would have gone in the closet, you would have talked out of nervousness and I would be silent with anxiety. Then you would probably ask, 'So, should we kiss?' and I would nod. Then we might have kissed a single time and you would've backed away and gone back to talking. And then we'd leave the closet and I'd be a mess of nerves every time we spoke and you would never have considered me as a romantic interest after that."

She pondered his answer a while and returned the quiet tone, "I think you're right."

He bit his cheek and stared up at her. "Unless if for some reason I decided to confess my feelings."

"You would have done that?"

"I… I don't know. I almost did after you told me Rivers asked you out."

"Really?" she gapped.

"Y-yeah. If I had in the closet, that might have gone differently. I still don't think we would have ended up the same as we are now. I like us now. I think we're in a great place."

She smiled. "I agree with both statements. I think if you would have confessed and I might have agreed to one date. Or I would have shut down completely. I'm not sure. I've done the shut down completely thing before when I get male attention."

"With who?"

"With… a few boys. I've been asked out by boys other than Rivers," she smirked, "I just didn't tell you."

"Well… yeah," he said. "I-I figured you had. I mean, you're stunning."

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him, taking his lip softly between hers and running her teeth across his skin. "You're stunning, too," she whispered on his lips.

As she pulled away, Neville could feel his cheeks rise in an appreciative soft smile. "T-thanks."

She placed his face in her hands and rubbed his cheekbones with her thumbs. "You're so handsome. I love looking at you. It's kind of weird looking at you now and then remembering looking at you in the past."

"W-what?"

"I just… I see so much more now. I see everything on your face. The dip in your cupid's bow, the tiny crease above your left eyebrow, every little movement of your eyelashes. I just notice more things about you. Especially your eyes. I used to just think they were brown, but now I see every little speck of gold within the brown."

His lips parted as Lenore stared into his eyes. Her thumbs stopped rubbing his cheeks and became still. She placed her face in the crook of his neck. Slowly, Neville wrapped his arms around her back, holding her against his chest.

"Lenore," he whispered, "I… I just really like you."

She giggled into his neck. "Me too."

"You like you?"

Another laugh. "No, I like you."

He could feel her warmth and care radiate over to him. They laid together, swaddled in warmth and affection.

"Anyway," she smiled, "I also wanted to kiss you when we were in your room, after you told me about your parents."

Neville cracked a smile. "So basically you only want to kiss me when I'm sad?"

"No!" she laughed. "I wanted to kiss you when we were outside looking at thestrals. And on your birthday. We didn't see each other, but I called you and you were being so sweet. I wish I would've spent your birthday with you. If I had, we probably would have kissed that day."

Neville bit his cheek. "I liked our first kiss, though."

"Yeah? Why?"

"I-it was still surprising. I never… I never expected that I would go from vomiting in a sink to you kissing me. Merlin, you more than kissed me. When you got up on the counter and put me between your legs… that's when I knew every single second of that previous year had been worth it."

"We should've snogged," she giggled. "I really wanted to take you upstairs and snog your brains out, but I didn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"That—" He blinked. "Merlin, that would have scared the piss out of me. I don't think I would have let you. I don't know. I clearly remember wanting to snog you. I… I actually remembering thinking I wanted to lay you down on the counter and bend over you, but—"

"You wanted to do that?" he eyes widened.

He gulped and nodded.

"Why haven't you done it yet, then?"

He chuckled. "It's not the same. We haven't snogged on a counter since."

Another smile from her. "Do it on a desk."

"O-okay," he exhaled his shock.

She flipped on her side and laid a hand on his chest. "So before our first kiss, when did you want to kiss me?"

"Every day for a year."

She giggled. "No, like specific moments you remember thinking, 'I _have_ to kiss her.'"

"Umm…" He searched his brain. "Back in March, when you were laying on the Slytherin table, you asked me if I fancied anyone. I said yes, meaning you, but you didn't know that. You bit your tongue and giggled."

He exhaled.

"Lenore, that's still one of my favorite memories— of us, or probably of my life so far. And I know it shouldn't be because you were obviously sad, but… Merlin, you were so gorgeous. You looked at me like you… I don't know. Like you noticed me as someone who could… I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"You do," she said gently. "You're just scared to say it. Say it."

He bit his cheek. "You looked at me like I was a guy capable of having crushes. I can't explain this very well. People just… don't think of me as someone who wants to be loved. I'm doing such a bad job explaining this. People think I'm quiet and innocent, and I mean, I am, but they kind of treat me like I'm asexual. Like I can't possibly have crushes or want to kiss people or have… whatever. Nobody ever thinks of me in that way. Like you know how McLaggen is lauded for his ability to get girls?"

She nodded.

"I've never been thought of that way. People don't talk to me about crushes or ask if I think someone is cute or come to me for relationship advice. It's just not an aspect people think of when they think about me. And I don't like that. I want to be thought of as someone who could be in a solid relationship. I want people to ask me for my opinion on love or lust. I'm honestly so lucky you were able to think of me in this romantic sense, and I'm still surprised you can. It's partially my fault. I don't project that vibe of being interested in girls. But it's not because I'm not interested in girls, it's because I'm generally only interested in one girl at a time."

Lenore sat up on her arm to get a better look at his face, which made him slightly nervous, but he continued.

"When you looked at me on that table, you were obviously teasing me. I had never been teased by anyone other than Dean and Seamus for having a crush. People never asked me about it. So, it was really nice to be thought of as someone who was capable of love or lust or fancying or whatever you were thinking."

Lenore watched him a moment. "You're serious? You really feel like people don't think of you that way? You're not being dramatic?"

"No!" he flushed. "S-sorry, never mind. I-I don't know why I spill such personal thoughts. I need to—"

"No, Neville!" she interrupted. "I didn't mean it like that. Honey, you tell me anything and everything you want. I just never thought about that. I think you're right. I think there are certain people we all just kind of forget are available. I think it happens to some people more often than others. I do it to some people. I've never thought of Ron or Harry as being sexual people. I don't think about Dagwood Bukowski or Helaine Benson or Wayne Hopkins as being sexual, just because I don't hear them talk about it. I think if you talk about it, people will assume it. I'm sure there's people don't think of me as having a sexuality."

Neville nodded. "M-maybe."

She placed a hand on his chest. "Neville, don't ever think there's something you can't tell me. I want to hear everything you that comes out of your mouth. I'm not going to judge you. We've been dating long enough that you can't scare me away that easily either."

He returned her soft smile.

"I'll tell you anything you want to hear and I hope you'll do the same for me."

"I will," he whispered. "I want to know everything about you."

She lightly kissed his lips. "Me too."

"So tell me something," he said. "Since I told you so much about my emotions, I want to hear yours."

"Like what?"

He placed a hand on top of hers. "Tell me why you never cry."

She thought a moment as she laid back down on his arm. "I can't really explain why. I honestly don't know. I just don't think that's how I deal with my emotions. I think I just ignore them until they go away."

He nodded. "But why though? Do people in your family not cry?"

"Oh, ha, no," she smiled. "My sister cries all the time. Over every little thing. I've seen my dad cry a few times, but I've never seen my mom cry. That's probably strange. Her and I just don't cry."

"You've seen your dad cry?" Neville asked.

She nodded. "A few times. After his brother died, especially."

Neville frowned. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed his chest. "It's okay."

Neville was silent a moment, then he asked, "What's the saddest thing that's ever happened to you?"

Her voice quieted ever more. "Raquel."

Neville nodded as she gripped his jumper between her fingers.

"I cried then," she said. "But… she died on a Monday evening. My mom told me immediately. B-because she saw the ambulance across the street and ran over to Mrs. McBride. I literally got the letter within three hours. And on Tuesday morning, I just had to pretend everything was okay. Even then I had to suck it all up. I tried not to let myself look sad. Did I seem sad? Do you remember?"

He shook his head. "I mean, you seemed a little sad when you were laying on the table, but I assumed it was because of Rivers. Also, that was what? A week after? Maybe a week and a half? I clearly remember you mentioning her name and being sad, but then I asked you to quiz me on my Muggle Studies questions. Fuck, I'm sorry. If I had known, I wouldn't have done that."

"No! It was a good distraction."

"I don't want to enable your distractions."

She let out a single giggle. "It's fine. You helped me release some of my emotions that one day. Thank you."

He kissed the top of her head. "No, thank you for believing me when I said you could talk to me."

She buried her face in the side of his ribs. His other hand reached around to lightly rub her back. He could feel every breath she took as she absorbed his affection.

"I'll come up with some more stuff to tell you," she said. "Or you can ask me something else."

"Umm…" He thought a moment. "I don't think I have any questions. Tell me something I don't know about you."

"I don't know what you do and don't know."

"Try me."

"I'll tell you something really obscure. But it's not emotional."

He smiled. "That's alright."

"Okay… hmm… fun fact… Everybody in my family learned how to swim by being tossed in Lake Michigan. My grandpa would just throw his kids in there and they had to figure it out. My mom is still scarred from the experience, so she took me to a YMCA and they taught me and my sister. My instructor was named Chad and he would chew tobacco while in the pool."

"He chewed while teaching you how to swim? How old were you?"

"Like six," she laughed. "It was weird. He was young. Probably about twenty. He was muscular, but every time he opened his mouth I would see his tobacco and spit mixture ."

"Gross."

"It was. Do you know how to swim?"

"Nope. My uncle actually pushed me off the edge of Blackpool pier when I was a kid. I nearly drowned."

"He pushed you off a pier?" she peered up at him. "Merlin H. Wizard, why?"

"To see if I was a wizard. They all thought I was a squib."

"Neville," she sat up on her arm once more, "that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. What the heck, why did he think that was a good idea?"

He shrugged. "Another time he held me upside down outside a second-story window. He dropped me and I remember everyone screaming. But I bounced like a rubber ball onto the front garden. And that's how they all figured out I wasn't a squib."

"What the actual fuck?" she gapped.

"They were obsessed with knowing if I was a squib or not."

"How old were you when he did that?"

"The pier, I was six. The window, I was eight."

"Eight years old?" she gapped. "Jesus Christ, Neville, that's not okay."

"It… it's fine. I lived."

Her eyes took in his face and at once she said, "I'm not surprised one bit that you have anxiety."

The statement surprised him. "What?"

"That's enough to give anybody problems. They thought you were a squib until you were eight? So they conducted experiments on you?"

"Er— yeah."

"Honey, that's terrible. It's honestly terrible."

"It… I mean, yeah. It was hurtful."

"It's a terrible thing to do to a child and I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He just bit his cheek. "It's okay. I never really thought about it as bad. But you're right. It is. It could have messed me up."

"Or killed you."

He broke into a wide smile. "Yeah, or that. Also, how did we go from talking about you to another psychoanalysis of me?"

She loosened her worried look and grinned shortly. "Sorry. But Neville, that's really not okay. I wasn't doing magic until I was older either. I didn't even know it was an option. We lived like muggles around muggles. I didn't meet another witch or wizard until I met my grandparents and then not again until we moved to England. My dad rarely did magic around us. He just prefers the muggle way."

"I… I don't know if I encountered any muggles for the beginning of my life."

"You only knew wizards?"

"Yeah. Mostly all pureblood, too."

"Okay," she asked, "who exactly are you related to?"

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Who aren't I related to would be the better question."

"What if we're related?" she gagged.

He cringed. "I… I don't think we are. We… Lenore, I don't believe this for a second, and I totally respect your family and I wish it weren't true but… My family married families like the Blacks or the Burkes or the MacMillians. We didn't… I mean…"

"The Henrys aren't as high class."

He nodded. "I'm so sorry. I really don't mean to insinuate anything. None of that matters to me, but… it mattered to them. So… they might have stayed clear."

"That's okay," she smiled. "At least it means our kids wouldn't have webbed fingers or a third eye or something."

He laughed. "That's actually a real problem. That same uncle, he's only related to me by marriage, don't worry. He's a Rockwood. Some of them have webbed fingers."

"Ew," she cringed.

She stole his hand off her back and examined his fingers. "No webbing here."

He laughed. "Hopefully."

"I wouldn't let webbed fingers anywhere near me," she smiled.

"Well… fundamentally yes, but that's also kind of mean. They can't help it."

"But I can help it."

"Lenore," he laughed, "you're lucky I know you're joking."

"I know," she giggled. "It is mean. I'm sure your webbed hand relatives are very nice."

"Woah, woah, woah. They aren't related to me."

"Mmm," she clutched his hand tighter. "Why do defensive?"

"Because I'm only the product of a little bit of incest, not too much."

"Just the right spice of incest. A pinch of cousin-fucking here. A dash of brother-on-sister action there."

She was now giggling quite hard and he laughed with her. "Yes, exactly."

She smiled and held his hand. "You're so cute."

"Well, thanks," he returned the grin.

She laid her head against his ribs and wrapped an arm over his chest. "Even if you are the product of incest."

"Lenore," he sighed as she laughed even harder than before.

"Also, did you say Rockwood? You're related to the Rockwoods?"

"By marriage!" he argued. "Not by blood."

"They're Death Eaters."

"I know," Neville sighed. "It's Gran's sister, she married a Rockwood. He's not a Death Eater, but some of his cousins are."

Lenore gapped up at him. "Woah. I'm not related to anyone who does anything. We're lower class, we just hang out and mind our own business."

"Do you know anyone you are related to?"

Lenore shrugged. "No idea. My grandpa had ten siblings, so I'm sure I'm related by marriage to a bunch of people. My grandma's family was German wizards, so I wouldn't be related to any of the families here."

"You're German?" he tilted his head.

"My witch grandma was born there, yeah."

"Did she speak German?"

Lenore nodded. "Yeah. They left when she was young, though, like a little before the first world war. She was around seven years old, maybe a little younger, then grew up here and had to lose the accent pretty damn fast. I only ever heard her speak German around her brothers and only in the house, never outside or in public."

"Does your dad speak German?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But he also studied it at university."

"Woah," Neville exhaled. "Do you speak German?"

"No," she laughed. "I just know how to say the numbers and the word 'stop' because my dad would always tell lame jokes in German. If you listen to them closely, they're all dirty jokes. So I would say 'lass den quatsch—'"

"'Lost in crotch?'"

"No!" she giggled. "Lass den quatsch. It's like 'stop messing around, cut it out.' Or I'd say 'hor auf' which is 'stop it.'"

Neville grinned. "So, you learned it out of necessity."

"Yes."

"But hey, there's only a one-fourth chance you could be related to any of my family members."

Lenore giggled. "Wow, that's reassuring."

"We don't look alike," he smiled.

"Yeah, I don't have webbed fingers."

He gasped. "I don't either! Lenore!"

She giggled wildly as she pressed her body against his. She smiled up at him and her eyes twinkled with glee. She curled even closer to him, so that her entire body ran the length of his. He wrapped her arm around her and she laid her inner thigh over the top of his leg, which caused him some anxiety, but he recovered.

She placed a kiss on his shoulder. "I'm just going to lay here."

"Go ahead. Are you tired?"

She closed her eyes and remained still. "I have a little headache, yeah. That might be why I'm cold, too. I don't feel great."

"Oh, good thing my tongue was in your mouth."

She smacked his chest and smiled, but then settled in next to him. Neville felt her breathing gradually slow as she relaxed completely into him. He stared at the top of his canopy bed in disbelief.

Three months. He had been with Lenore for three months. In the grand scheme of things, it was not much time. In fact, time had practically flown the last thirteen weeks. She was perfect. He knew she did not like him to think about her as perfect, and he obviously knew she was not, but to him, she was the best woman in the world. They went from purposely annoying each other, to snogging, to talking, to laughing all in the matter of an hour. He loved how easy it was to talk and joke with her. She was right, he was not scared of her anymore. Sure, he worried something, but this time last year, he was literally terrified to hold a conversation alone with her. He was constantly scared he would mess up or say something stupid. Sure, he still felt that way sometimes, but it was lessened quite a bit and for different reasons.

He was been scared she would think he was strange. Now she knew he was strange. The thought made him smile. She was strange, too. Everybody was a little strange, it just matters was type of strange you can tolerate or appreciate. Lenore was full of odd stories and constantly teasing him. He was… he just said some of the most embarrassing things. Neville was quiet, until he would say things like out in the hall when he talked about kissing her neck. He would blurt out things with no impulse control when his nervousness faltered. That's why he preferred to remain nervous, because he knew it would protect him from his own mouth.

Neville glanced down at Lenore's head resting comfortably in his arms. All he ever wanted was to hold her. Sometimes they would be participating in a mundane event and he would get the sudden urge to wrap his arms around her. Thursday during Charms she partnered up with him for a short activity. As she stood slightly in front of him, he had to stop himself from hugging her from behind. He loved being close to her and he always made sure to hug her every chance her got.

He kissed the top of her head lightly and she did not react. He craned his head and noticed her lips slightly parted, her eyes relaxed, and her slow breathing.

She was asleep.

He audibly exhaled. Lenore was asleep in his arms. Bloody hell, she fell asleep not just next to him, but partially on top of him. Her leg remained curled over his and her fingers loosely clutched his jumper.

Lenore would not just fall asleep around anyone. It was all part of her fear of being vulnerable. If she fell asleep near him, that meant she at least somewhat trusted him. His heart panged and he could not help but smile.

These past three months had been some of the best, and yet the worst, of his entire life. He could not quite explain how he felt. When he was with Lenore, he was ecstatic and joyful. She made him realize all the happiness around him. Classes were going well, his new wand worked magic, and he genuinely had many exciting, happy moments surrounding him. However, when his friends were fighting or he had another nightmare about the Ministry or he realized that the war was only getting worse, he felt consumed by sadness once more.

It was an odd mix of emotions. Overall, he would consider himself happy but damaged. It was a sad way to describe a human being, he knew, but that is how he felt. He had seen too much grief to ever consider himself whole. That's just how life was. Reality became nightmares and nightmares faded into distant memories.

Lately, however, he had been having dreams, which was unusual. Normally he had no dreams and just the occasional nightmare, but the past four months or so he had a dream nearly every other night. The dreams switched tones, between happy and weird or scary and sad. Most dreams were just weird. He had been dreaming about Lenore quite a bit the past seven days. She did not often appear in his dreams, but this week alone she appeared four times. In one dream, she was in a hot air balloon and she waved to him on the ground. That's all he could remember. Another dream, they were together in an old Roman coliseum, watching lions standing on their hind legs and fist fight each other. The next night, dream-Lenore laid down in a hospital bed with his mother, which had terrified him at first, until he realized she was merely hugging his mum, not in the hospital herself. And of course there was the one wet dream he had about bending her over a Potions lab table, but he tried to extinguish that one from his memory.

He glanced down at her and wondered if she ever dreamed about him. Not sexual dreams, of course, he mentally corrected himself. Well, maybe she did, but that was neither here nor there. He often had sweet dreams about her, where she was his partner, someone he relied on for humor or kindness or help, and he wanted to know if he was ever in her mind as she slept.

Neville's arm was beginning to go numb where she laid her head, but he did not want to disturb her. He also did not want to separate himself from her, but finally the pain became so uncomfortable that he slowly slipped his arm out from under her head. She must have been in a deep slumber, because she barely stirred.

He closed his eyes and realized it had not taken her long to fall asleep, which was odd. She must have been tired. He thought back to her previous state. She did not look exhausted, but she must have been. He could hear her light breaths as he felt himself slowly sinking deeper into his mattress. His eye lids grew heavy. He was not tired, was he? No, he had plenty of rest. Still, he listened to Lenore's regular inhalations and felt her warmth surround him.

A door slammed as Dean shouted, "Oi!"

Neville nearly jumped out of his skin as his eyes widened. Lenore was not under his arm anymore, but rather she sat upright next to him with a textbook in her hands. White sunlight no longer streamed over the room, but instead he saw an orange glow outside the window. She giggled at his sudden jerk from sleep. "Dean!"

"He needed to wake up or he won't sleep tonight."

Neville slowly sat up and glanced around the room. Dean brushed his teeth in the bathroom as Seamus sat on a trunk and tied his shoelaces. He turned to meet Lenore's highly amused eyes.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"A little after five," Lenore said, glancing at her watch.

"Bloody hell," he said. "I didn't even know I fell asleep. How long were we out?"

"I don't know when you fell asleep," she said. "But I woke up around 4:15 and you were out. I think I went to sleep after 3-ish."

"You've been awake for almost an hour and I didn't even notice?"

"Yeah and I woke up with my face directly in your armpit."

"S-sorry," he stammered.

"I didn't mind."

"I didn't mean to go to sleep," he said as he held his forehead. "Merlin, I feel awful now, like I have a hangover."

"Dinner is in forty-five minutes. That'll make you feel better. Drink a glass of water."

He reached for the cup on his nightstand.

"That's mine!" she argued.

She tried to snatch it out of his hand but he still placed the glass to his lips a downed its entire contents. On the last sip, Lenore pushed the glass up into his face and water dribbled down his front. "Hey!" he said as he coughed up water from his lungs.

"'Hey' yourself, you little brat! That was my water!"

He reached for his wand and charmed to glass to fill with more water. "There you go."

"Your nasty lips have been on the glass."

"My nasty lips?" he laughed. "Your lips were on mine not two hours ago!"

She could not hold back her smile any longer and a brilliant grin spread across her face. "Fine."

"'Fine?'" he repeated. "Gran used to smack my face if I said 'fine.'"

"My mom, too!" Lenore nearly shouted. "Oh my god, every time I would end an argument with 'Okay, fine,' she would grab my chin. It didn't matter where we were. I clearly remember getting my face grabbed in the middle of a Buffalo Wild Wings, which is like a sports bar, as university football played on the television. Merlin, she would always grab me and say, 'Don't you 'fine' me.'"

Neville smiled. "I had my face smacked at a family reunion. That's the main one I remember. Gran never really smacked me or spanked me. I only remember her doing it twice. One smack, one spank."

"I only got spanked two or three times that I remember," she said. "I got my face grabbed a lot more because I was mouthy. My sister though… She was spanked at least eight times in my memory and I'm sure she remembers more. She was a bad child."

"Me mum had a special belt she called 'The Enforcer,'" Seamus offered from the bathroom. "She got full use of it on me and now me brothers are gettin' it."

"How old are your brothers now?" Lenore asked.

He returned to the room. "Ennis is two, nearly three. Lochlan is five, I think. No, he's still four."

"How are they?"

"The better question is how are me parents?"

"Alright," she grinned, "how are your parents?"

"Better now that they've got two babes. They learned from me to give the oldest mistake a pal."

"Mistake?" Lenore laughed.

"No, me parents meant to have two kids fourteen years apart."

She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, the older one was a surprise, and then me mum remembered what a pain it was to raise me without a mate to keep me company, so they decided to give him a pal. They'll start to raise themselves soon, she hopes."

Lenore laughed quite a bit, which stirred Neville from his sleepy fog.

"That's not gonna happen," Seamus finished.

"It does!" Lenore argued. "Margaux and I were that close in age and we entertained ourselves most of the time. That's actually a really smart idea."

"I'm glad I didn't have siblings growin' up," Seamus said. "The little runts are into everything. What about you, Dean?"

"Hmm?" he peeked his head out from the bathroom. "Oh, um, I don't really remember what it's like to be an only child. I was five when my oldest sister was born. I remember her being born, but I don't remember a time before. And then three more babies shot out and that wiped my memory of any solitude."

"I wish I had siblings," Neville said.

"Sometimes I wish I had siblings who were my full siblings," Dean said quietly. "That sounds bad, but… I don't know. Sometimes it'd be nice not to be the only black one in the family. I look adopted. One time, some woman in Tesco thought I was the nanny. I also wish I could remember my dad. My parents really loved each other, you know, so that would be nice to see."

They all nodded understandingly.

"My parents act all lovely-dovey all the time and I don't like it," said Seamus. "It's odd. They'll just start snogging in front of me or the ol' man'll grab her arse."

"My parent's aren't like that," Lenore said. "They peck each other on the lips, but that's about it. They're not very touchy at all. They mostly seem to find love in making intelligent or rude comments."

Seamus stood up from his trunk as Dean exited the bathroom. "I've seen me dad's tongue in me ma's mouth way too many times to be considered sane."

Dean grabbed his backpack. "My Dad, er—stepdad, you know. I've just always called him 'Dad.' But any way, he does shit like that. I'm not surprise at all they ended up with four kids."

"Ew!" Seamus cringed.

"His mom is fit," Lenore argued.

"I know," Seamus said. "That's what I told her last night in my bed."

Dean smacked the back of Seamus's head as the Irish lad laughed. "Ready to go?"

"Where are you going?" Lenore wondered.

"Studying for Herbology before dinner," said Seamus. "You can come, too, Neville."

He shook his head. "No, I need to wake up a little more before I even try to think."

"You don't even need to study anyway," Dean laughed. "See ya, mate. Bye, Henry."

Seamus also gave her a short nod and the door closed behind the two boys. Lenore turned to Neville. "I think I'm not a touchy person because my parents aren't touchy."

"What?" He blinked once. "Oh, maybe, yeah. Gran's not touchy but I like touching you."

He immediately cringed. "I'm not even going to try to fix that statement."

She giggled as he laid down on the bed once more. He covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. That nap just took a lot out of me."

"Apparently," she laughed.

He was silent for a moment before the words slipped out of his mouth. "I wish I knew if my parents were touchy people."

Lenore did not skip a beat. "Ask somebody."

"They're all dead."

"Neville," she said gently. "There's got to be somebody you can ask. Ask Snape."

"No way," he removed his hand from his eyes. "And don't you go asking him either."

"You can't stop me."

He stared at her for a few seconds, silently begging her not to bring Snape into this. At once, she flipped to the back of her parchment stack and began furiously writing.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Her quill danced over the page with force. "Dear Mrs. Weasley… You don't know me, but I go to school with your kids. You might know my sister, Margaux Henry. She's friends with Ginny."

"Why are you writing her?"

Lenore read her words as she wrote them. "I am dating… Neville… Longbottom. He is… sad… because… he does not know… his parents… acted…"

"Lenore—"

"Hush," she hissed. "He does not know how his parents acted around each other. Were they lovely-dovey? …Were they… fans… of PDA? Neville… genuinely… wants to know. Any details… you remember… about Frank and Alice's… relationship… would be… greatly appreciated. Warm regards… Lenore Henry."

She finished writing and folded up the parchment as she placed it inside her Charms textbook. "I'll mail it after dinner."

Neville stared up at her, watching her green eyes look back at him with intense determination. After a moment, he simply breathed, "Thank you."

She smiled and leaned down to kiss him. Her lips trailed his and she ended with a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm still going to ask Snape."

"Lenore—"

"Kidding!" she laughed. "Maybe."

He groaned once more and she kissed him. "You're so cute when you're groggy."

"Thanks," he whispered. "You're cute all the time."

She held his chin in one hand and kissed his lips. She pulled away just enough to whisper, "I fancy you."

"I fancy you, too. Don't ask Snape."

"Mmm…"

"He already hates me," Neville begged.

"He doesn't hate you," she said. "He hates you because he hated your parents."

"Wow, that makes me feel better."

She smiled. "He doesn't hate you, like you as a person. He hates you because of that prophecy you told me about. He was best friends with Lily Potter. That's what Pansy told me, at least. She knows all the gossip from back then because her mom was like the school's queen bitch."

"Wait, when did her mom graduate?"

"She told me her mom graduated when Harry's parents were in second year. So like four years older than your parents. But anyway, when Lily died, Snape didn't have his best friend anymore. He wishes it would have been your mum who died, instead of Lily."

Neville's mouth fell open. "What? He wishes my mum was dead?"

"I just connected this a couple weeks ago," she said. "I didn't know how to bring it up to you. Also, it's just a theory, based on what I've observed. So, you've said there's that prophecy. It had to be you or Harry and both your parents were targeted. This about this, Neville. He went after Harry's parents first. I don't know why—"

"Because Harry is halfblood," Neville said at once.

Lenore gasped and Neville's eyes widened. "And You Know Who is Also halfblood, bloody hell," he continued.

"Holy shit," Lenore said. "You're right. He went after Harry personally because he assumed the one to defeat him would be an equal match. So, he went after Harry's parents on the same night your parents were kidnapped, right?"

Neville frowned and nodded.

"And then Bellatrix tortured them until she got word You Know Who had been killed and then she left them and ran."

Another nod from Neville.

"So, if You Know Who hadn't died, your parents would also be dead."

"Y-yeah."

"But he did die. Snape doesn't know about the prophecy, does he?"

"He has to," Neville said. "He was in the Order. And Dumbledore tells him everything."

"Wait, did… did you're parents know about the prophecy?"

Neville's lips parted as his brain swirled. "I… I don't know. Merlin, imagine if they did. Bloody hell, Lenore, if they did—"

Lenore flung her arms around him as he fell silent. She jammed her face into his neck. "I don't know what's scarier," he whispered. "That they did know and they were tortured to insanity to… to protect me and Harry. Or if they didn't know and they were tortured for no reason."

Lenore stroked his hair. "I don't know either," she breathed. "But they're heroes either way."

Neville nodded and held her tight.

"So," Lenore continued. "Snape knew, let's assume that. He resents You Know Who for killing his best friend but letting your mum and dad live. And he channels that resentment on to you. You are your parents in his eyes, because he's honestly obsessive and stuck in the past. When he sees you, he sees your parents. And when he sees your parents, he remembers what happened to Lily."

"Woah," Neville said.

"But what doesn't make sense is why he resents Harry."

"Yes it does," he said. "Without Harry, none of this would have happened. Lily wouldn't have targeted if Harry wasn't born."

"Holy shit!" she squealed as she pulled away to look at his face. "You're right!

He nodded. "It makes sense. All of it. I think you're right. As long as Pansy's gossip is right."

"Yeah," Lenore nodded. "It normally is. Or it's pretty close."

"Pretty close?"

"Well," Lenore shrugged. "Mrs. Parkinson only knew them up until their second year. A lot can happen in seven years between then and Lily's death. Her and Snape could stopped being friends, or become boyfriend or girlfri—"

"Doubtful."

Lenore smiled. "You don't know. Snape could have been a real looker when he was younger."

"Ummm, very highly doubt that."

She giggled. "Okay, me too, but you don't have to be cute to get a girlfriend."

"Yeah, look at me."

"Shut up," she giggled. She laid a huge, playful kiss on his lips. "You're cute and you know it."

"As long as you think it, I'm good."

She laughed. "I don't think it, I know."

"Even better."


	36. Chapter 36: Flirty Frank and Alice

**Sorry I haven't updated in a long time! I've been writing out of order. I have two more chapters to write (qudditch game and Slug Club Christmas party) then I have three long Christmas break chapters ready to publish! xx.**

 **Lenore's POV**

Lenore scowled as her owl chirped in her ear.

"Vicky!" she shooed the brown barn owl away from her ear. "Yes, baby, I love you."

Odette Trujillo smirked. "So you'll say that to an owl but not to your boyfriend?"

Lenore shot her an amused glance. "Hush."

Vicky the owl hopped on Lenore's shoulder as Lenore glanced through her mail, noticing an invite to Slughorn's Christmas party. Next to her, Odette's grey owl scowled at her.

"Be lucky your owl is friendly," sighed Odette. "Goldie looks like she's about to bite my hand off."

Lenore flipped past a letter from her parents. "Maybe because you named her 'Goldie' when she's silver."

"I thought it was funny! Whatever. I was eleven."

Lenore smiled and shook her head, then flicked a letter from Katie's mum open. She scanned it quickly. Katie was still doing fine, her limbs were slow to respond, but overall she was doing well. She would be released from the hospital on January sixth, and oh wouldn't Lenore love to come visit her? Lenore made a mental note to reply immediately, then she flipped over the stack of letters to the last one. She read it and gasped.

Molly Weasley.

"What?" Odette asked.

Lenore grinned. "I'll talk to you later, I've got to go find Neville!"

"Hey!" Odette argued. "We're supposed to study!"

Lenore set her owl back down on her perch. "Oh shoot! You're right… okay, let's study."

"What do you have to tell him?"

Lenore held up the yellowed letter. "I asked Mrs. Weasley about his parents because he wanted to know."

"What did you ask?" Odette said.

"He wanted to know how his parents acted around each other," she said. "Like if they were lovey-dovey PDA or what."

"And you said his parents are still alive?"

Lenore nodded. "Oh wait. He's studying with Terry tonight. I couldn't talk to him anyway."

Odette clapped her hands together. "Good! I need you to help me with Potions!"

"Fine. Brat. Let's go back to the room so I can write a quick reply to Katie."

Odette nodded and started for the stairs. "How's Katie doing?"

Lenore hopped down the stone staircase. "She's gonna be released on the sixth."

"Yay!" Odette said. "I'm glad she's getting better."

"Me, too," Lenore sighed.

The pair walked down six floors to the dungeons, avoided Theodore Knott in the common room, and opened their unlocked door.

"What's up with you and Theo?" Lenore whispered as they entered their dormitory.

Odette made a face. "We're just friends."

Mallory sat on Blair's bed, reading a book as Blair napped next to him. He looked up from his book. "Are you talking about Odette and Theo?"

Odette grabbed Lenore's hand. "Come here, Len."

She pulled Lenore out into the hallway and leaned in close to her ear. "Theo is gay."

Lenore gasped and met Odette's eyes. "No way."

Odette nodded. "But you have to be quiet. He's got so many problems already."

Lenore's mouth still hung open. "But… he sleeps with girls."

"He did," she whispered. "But he knew it wasn't for him."

"Woah. Okay."

Odette smiled and squeezed Lenore's hand.

"Why are you two out here being lesbians?" called Pansy from down the hall.

Odette let go of Lenore and rolled her eyes at Pansy. "Why are you over there being a bitch?"

Pansy smirked genuinely and flipped her short black hair. "It's a habit."

The three girls entered the dormitory and Pansy's eyes flew to Mallory. "Ew, what are you doing here?"

Malloy held his hand to his heart. "Hello to you, too, my dear."

Pansy gagged and threw her uniform shoes in her trunk. "Were you at dinner?"

Mallory shook his head. "Blair was asleep so I'm sitting here with her. She doesn't feel well."

Pansy groaned. "I can _not_ get sick."

"Malfoy's been sick," said Mallory.

"I know," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I won't let him touch me."

Mallory grinned. "Starving him from sex?"

"Zabini told me he never has sex the week before a quidditch game," replied Pansy. "He said it keeps him alert."

"I've heard of muggle footballers doing that!" Mallory said. "I doubt it works."

Pansy struggled. "I don't know, but it's my excuse. We've got the Gryffindor game this weekend and I don't want to touch him anyway. He's being moody."

"Like always?" Lenore scoffed.

Pansy glared at her. "Nooo. A different type of moody."

Lenore crossed the room and placed her hand on Blair's curtain. "I'm changing," she said to Mallory. "So stay in there."

Mallory saluted her and as Lenore closed the curtains, she noticed Blair stirring in her sleep. Lenore reached into her dresser, slipped on some black leggings, an oversized olive green button-up plaid, and brushed her hair as Odette donned light wash jeans, a sweatshirt, and white trainers.

"Is everyone dressed?" Blair called.

After a round of "yeah"s, Blair opened her curtains and glanced around the room. "Hi everyone," she said.

"Hi," they all returned the word.

Blair stretched and Mallory set his textbook on her dresser.

"You were out for a while," Pansy said. "I came in here around five and you were asleep."

"What time is it now?"

Pansy glanced at her clock. "Seven."

Blair sighed. "I missed dinner. Oh, Mal, you missed dinner, too!"

"I'm not hungry. Are you?"

She shook her head. "No. You're sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah, if I was hungry I would've left you."

She laughed. "I can't believe I slept for two hours."

Mallory leaned in to whisper in her ear, but everyone in the room could clearly hear him. "You always sleep well after I do that."

"Ew!" Pansy squealed. "Please god, do not be talking about sex."

Lenore laughed. "Please, do not."

Blair's nose twitched into the air. "At least I'm getting some, unlike two of you."

"I could get some if I wanted to," Lenore argued.

"Ha!" Blair laughed wildly. "Longbottom wouldn't even get inside you before he finished."

Lenore frowned as Pansy screeched with giggles. "Hey! He's better than you think!"

Blair gave her a look. "When you grind, how long do you do it before he calls it quits?"

Lenore bit her cheek. "I don't know."

"Okay," Blair clapped her hands together. "So, like a couple minutes."

"No!" she gasped over Pansy's laughter.

But in reality, it was never more than a few minutes.

Blair smiled. "You just have to teach him. Intervals to calm him down."

At once, Odette blurted out, "What does sex feel like?"

Blair raised her eyebrows, as did Lenore and Pansy. "The first time?"

Odette nodded. "The first time. And then after that."

Blair laughed. "The first time, you're not gonna feel a thing."

Odette's eyes widened but Lenore laughed. "I've heard that!"

Blair nodded and clutched Mallory's hand. "It hurt when he first pushed in, but then he'll start thrusting and you literally feel nothing. It's like two arms rubbing against each other."

"No way!" Odette said.

Pansy tore through her dresser in search of a specific blouse. "She's right. I didn't feel anything my first time."

"Then Mallory was over there acting like he was about to cum the second he got inside me," said Blair. "I never understood it. It took us a while to figure out angles."

"You've got to teach them how to do it," Pansy said as she headed for the bathroom. "Boys have been taught that penetration works, but it doesn't."

Odette sighed. "I hate boys."

"Me, too," Lenore said.

Odette threw her pillow at Lenore. "Shut up! You have a boyfriend!"

"I can still hate boys!" she said as she threw the pillow back at Odette. "Seriously, they're all awful."

Odette groaned and fell back in her bed. "Find me someone like Neville."

Lenore thought a moment, then she gasped. "Terry Boot!"

Odette's nose turned up and she raised her eyebrows. "No."

"Yes!" Lenore said. "He's sweet."

"He's fat," Pansy called from the bathroom.

"Fuck you, Pans," Lenore said. "He's a very nice guy."

Odette shrugged. "I've never thought about him before."

"You've never dated a black guy," whispered Blair.

Lenore's mouth dropped open. "Blair!"

Blair threw her hands up. "It's true. And I'm allowed to say that. Now if Pansy had said it…"

"You haven't dated a black guy," called Pansy, who obviously was not listening.

"Pansy!" Mallory scolded her on behalf of Lenore.

"Terry Boot is very sweet," Blair continued. "And black men are great."

"Then why are are you engaged to two percent milk?" asked Pansy.

Blair genuinely laughed and kissed Mallory. "Because I love him. Love doesn't discriminate, you bitch."

Pansy exited the bathroom and smiled as she climbed into bed. "Odette, go on a double date with Terry and Lenore and Loserbottom."

Lenore squinted. "How long did it take you to think of that one?"

"Off the top of my head," Pansy grinned.

"Creative," said Lenore as she rolled her eyes.

"Do you think Lose— _Long_ bottom would want to do that?" Blair asked.

Lenore ignored her slip of the tongue. "I could get him to do it."

"Just bring it up when he's in a good mood."

"Do you think Terry would want to go out with me, though?" Odette asked.

"Absolutely," said Lenore. "You're gorgeous."

"You're too pretty for Terry," said Pansy. "He's fat. I'm not even kidding. Don't do it."

"He's not fat," Odette argued. "He's a good size."

"Fat," Pansy sighed.

Lenore threw a pillow over to Pansy's face and it smacked the girl. "Terry's cute. He's got a baby face and he's a good height, too."

"He's very darkskin," Pansy said offhandedly.

"Pansy!" Blair sat up. "You better shut the hell up before I beat you and your albino fuck toy to a pulp."

"He's darker than Blaise, that's all I'm saying!"

"Draco's paler than a piece of parchment," said Blair.

"Fuck off," Pansy hissed. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Sorry."

Blair and Pansy stared at each other for a while as Mallory, Odette, and Lenore remained quiet. Suddenly, Odette broke the silence and turned to Lenore. "Ask him if he'd want to go out with me."

"Alright," Lenore smiled. "I'll ask him tomorrow morning. Are you free Friday night?"

Odette nodded. "Oh! Wait. Hmmm… Are you going to that pre-game party in the Gryffindor common room?"

Lenore shrugged. "That's Saturday morning, before the game. I wasn't planning on it. But we could. That could be our double date? Is that a weird double date?"

"No!" Blair said. "That's perfect! If Odette doesn't like Terry, she can bounce."

Odette giggled. "I wouldn't just leave him!"

"It's good to have a backup plan," said Lenore. "I'll ask tomorrow. Let's go study."

Pansy sighed. "Terry is so ugly."

Lenore rolled her eyes. She knew Pansy just wanted attention, so she chose to ignore the girl. But she spoke again. "What are you two studying?"

Lenore glanced at Odette. "Mostly Charms and Potions."

Pansy nodded.

Odette looked at Lenore, then said, "Pans, you want to come?"

Pansy hesitated, trying to be coy. But Lenore knew she wanted to hang out with them. "Sure."

"Well, come on," Lenore waved.

She really did not hate Pansy. Sure, she was awful, but she was amusing. Pansy followed them out of the common room and down the corridor to the library.

"So, Henry," she smirked. "Tell me, honestly. When are you going to fuck Longbottom?"

Lenore cringed. "Uhhhh, not anytime soon."

Pansy sighed. "Why not?"

Lenore laughed. "Because I'm seventeen."

"So?" Pansy raised her eyebrows. "I know people who've been doing it since fourteen."

"What's-his-face the year above us did it at thirteen," Odette said. "You know who I'm talking about? Ugly Eyebrows?"

"Yes!" Pansy said. "I can't remember his name, but those eyebrows. I've heard he did it at thirteen."

"Ew," said Lenore. "That's honestly gross."

"Well, yeah," Pansy said plainly. "They're just kids. But you are legal."

"To wizards, not to muggles."

Pansy flipped her hair. "Who gives a fuck about them?"

"I'm not doing it with Neville," replied Lenore. "I can't even imagine him doing that right now."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "If you can't imagine having sex with him, you picked the wrong guy."

"No!" Odette interrupted. "Len, don't listen to her. She's dumb. You obviously said 'right now.'"

"Yeah!" Lenore argued. "I mean… eventually we will."

"When?" Pansy demanded.

Lenore shrugged. "I don't know about sex. But I told him we could do other things in a few months."

"Other things?" Pansy smirked. "Like what?"

Lenore's cheeks burned. "You know… I want to start with hands on him."

"A handjob?" she sneered. "Is this third year?"

"For us it is," Lenore grinned.

"That's so elementary!" Pansy sighed.

"You have to start somewhere!"

"I don't know, Len," Odette said, "I think anal would be a good place to start."

Pansy and Lenore cracked up as they entered the library, which prompted a hushing from Madame Pince, the librarian.

"There's Loserbottom right now," Pansy pointed as they passed a set of shelves.

Lenore glanced down the row and noticed Neville sitting in front of the shelves with Terry Boot. "Yep."

"You're not gonna say hi?"

Lenore gave her a crazy look. "No?"

"Neville!" Pansy called down the row.

Neville glanced up and noticed Pansy heading straight for him, which startled him until he noticed Lenore right behind her.

"What's up, Loserbottom?"

"H-hi," he said quietly as he glanced between Lenore and Pansy.

Lenore stepped behind Neville and leaned down to wrap her arms around his neck. "That's her new nickname for you. It's quite creative, isn't it?"

Neville nodded, but remained silent, so Lenore kissed his jaw.

"Gag," Pansy said. "Hi, Big Booty."

Terry also looked startled, but he immediately began laughing. "Okay then. Hi Pansy."

Lenore smiled as she nuzzled her face next to Neville neck. He reached up and held her hands, which rested on his collarbone.

"You don't like your nickname?" Pansy asked.

"I mean… It's kind of a compliment," Terry said. "Big booties are good."

Pansy gave him a look. "No."

"Maybe not to you," Odette finally spoke up. "You read all those fashion magazines with the tiny little pale models."

"Tiny and pale?" Terry said. "No wonder she likes Draco."

Pansy's mouth flew open as Odette and Lenore howled the laughter. Neville simply cracked a smile.

"How do you know about—" Pansy leaned in close to Terry. "—me and Draco?"

"Doesn't everyone know?" Terry asked. "I mean seriously, you're all over him."

Pansy stomped her foot and whined. "Don't you dare say anything."

"I mean… I already did," said Terry. "Just now."

"After now!" she hissed. "Or he'll get mad at me."

Lenore stood up straight. "He'll get mad at you if people know you're together?"

Pansy's eyes shifted, then she nodded.

"Fuck him, Pans!" Lenore said. "What an arsehole! Why are you letting him control you?"

"He's not controlling me!"

"He is!" she argued. "He's literally telling you not to tell anyone about the relationship!"

Pansy crossed her arms. "You told Longbottom the same thing."

Lenore's lips parted. "No! Well, I mean… Okay, I did, but—"

"Ha!" said Pansy. "It's the same thing."

"N-no," Neville spoke up. "L-len doesn't tell me w-what to do. W-we kept it quiet b-because we're in rival houses. A-and we were only quiet for a couple weeks. Y-you've been with Draco for months."

Lenore gratefully squeezed his shoulders as Pansy's eyes flew to Lenore. "How does he know I've been with Draco for that long?"

"I tell him everything," she said indignantly.

Pansy stomped her foot again. "Longbottom, if I so much as hear a peep from any of your dorky little friends about me and Draco, I'll stretch those giant ears even further from your head."

"Pansy!" Lenore said. "Go study with Odette. Quit being defensive. Neville's not gonna tell."

"I-I won't," he stammered. "N-no one cares about you."

Lenore's eyes widened as her eyes flew to Odette. At once, both girls shrieked with laughter, joined by Terry Boot's hearty guffaws.

"I-I just mean they don't care about your love life!" Neville said quickly. "Merlin, sorry!"

Pansy scowled and grabbed Odette's hand. "Come on, Henry," she said. "Help me with Potions."

"I'll be there in a second," she replied. "I'm going to talk to Neville a minute."

Pansy rolled her eyes and stomped away with Odette in tow. The second she exited the row, Neville said, "I really didn't mean no one cares about her."

"Who cares?" Lenore giggled. "That was so funny."

"Mate," Terry patted him on the shoulder. "That was brilliant."

Neville flushed red and Lenore leaned back down to kiss his jaw. "Sorry she's such a bitch."

"I-it's okay. W-why are you with her?"

"I was supposed to study with just Odette," Lenore sighed. "But she seemed lonely, so Odette invited her. I hate her, but I don't hate her, you know? Like, she's a terrible person, but when she's not being terrible she's pretty cool."

Terry raised his brow. "When is she not being terrible?"

Lenore laughed and shrugged. "You just have to catch her at the right time. She was fine today, until she went out of her way to mock you two."

"Oh my god, her nicknames!" Terry laughed. "Loserbottom and Big Booty. I died."

"Yours was especially terrible," she told Terry. "I mean, it's funny, but it's not supposed to be."

"I do have a nice bum," Terry said as he shifted in his seat, "so I'm not even offended."

Lenore giggled. "She calls me 'Hairy Henry' because I grow thick eyebrows and leg hair and I get a little baby hair mustache if I don't wax it every few weeks. She thinks it hurts my feelings but it doesn't."

"Bid Booty," Terry repeated. "Wow, I love my bum."

Lenore laughed yet again and rested her cheek on Neville's shoulder.

"I'll be back," Terry said as he stood. "I'm going to use the loo."

"We'll watch your bum as you leave," Lenore called.

Terry chuckled. "I appreciate it."

Lenore and Neville laughed while Terry did a little dance down the row. Lenore kissed Neville's jaw once more. "Hi."

"Hi," he beamed. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she smiled. "I didn't intend to talk to you, but Pansy wanted to come over and tease you."

"Well… she did," he grinned. "She got a good ears joke in."

Lenore kissed his ear. "Your ears are perfect."

"Thanks," he whispered.

"You're so cute," she returned his rushed tone. She ran her hands up Neville's neck. "Anyway, I have two things to tell you."

He smiled. "What are they?"

"Did you get into the Slug Club?"

Neville frowned. "Well… I got invited to the Christmas party."

Lenore gasped with glee.

"No!" he said quickly. He laughed to himself. "I'm going to be a waiter. I didn't get in."

"A waiter?" Lenore asked.

He nodded. "For extra credit in Potions."

Her mouth dropped open. "That's rude of him!"

"Don't say anything," he begged. "I need that extra credit. I don't care about Slug Club, I care about that credit."

Lenore pouted. "Now who am I supposed to talk to in there?"

"You got in?" he gasped.

"Yeah!"

"Len!" He kissed her lips. "Aww, I'm so proud."

"Thanks! I guess I have Margaux to talk to."

"She got in, too?"

Lenore nodded. "That's why I went to check my mail. She got told me at dinner that she got in."

"There," Neville said. "You have someone."

Lenore smiled. "Well, we'll have fun in there. Sorry about you, though."

He shrugged. "It's okay. What was the second thing you wanted to say?"

"Oh!" she said as she massaged his shoulders. "I got a letter from Mrs. Weasley."

Neville tilted his head back to look at her. "No way. What's it say?"

"I haven't opened it."

"Open it!" he said. "Wait! No! Oh wow. It's about my parents?"

"I assume so."

"Merlin," he exhaled. "Okay, um, wow—"

Lenore kissed his cheek. He was getting quite flustered. "How long are you studying tonight?"

"Until curfew, I assume."

"I can just give it to you. It's in my bag."

"No," he said quickly. "I want you there."

She nodded and hugged his neck. "Okay."

"How about tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "That works."

She planted a kiss on Neville's lips and allowed her hands to slide across his bare skin. As she leaned back, Neville grinned. "You're quite touchy today."

"I know," she whispered, her lips trailing his jaw. "I just really appreciate you."

"I appreciate you, too," he said slowly. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" she giggled. "I'm just really happy."

"Yeah?" he smiled, before catching her lips again. "Why?"

"Because my life is pretty great."

"Why?"

"Well," she said as she pecked his lips. "I have an amazing boyfriend."

Neville smiled and his adoring eyes met hers. "Th-thanks."

Lenore laughed. "I'm in a good mood today."

Neville clutched her hands, which rested on his collarbone. "You look so pretty today."

She grinned. "Thanks."

"You look especially happy," he said. "And playful."

Lenore placed her face in his neck and giggled.

"Okay, Len," he smiled. "You can't be doing this."

She decided to play his game. "Why not?"

"Because you're being too cute for me to focus on anything else. Like studying."

"I can go back to my usual sullen self."

"Whatever makes you happy," he chuckled.

She kissed his ear. "Oh! You want to go on a double date with Terry and Odette?"

"What?" he gapped. "When? Wait—when did that happen?"

"It hasn't yet. She just asked to be set up with a nice guy and I'm going to ask Terry tomorrow."

"Odette and Terry?" he raised his brow.

"It's kind of odd on the surface, but think about it. They're both nice and shy. They're friends with Ravenclaws. They… well, actually, that's about it."

Neville was still doubtful. "Does she… is she into him?"

"She wants to try him out," she shrugged. "I know, they don't exactly look like they'd be together, but that doesn't matter."

He nodded. "Terry's a great bloke, but… I don't know. I just pictured Odette with like… a delicate guy."

Lenore burst into giggles. "What?"

"You know!" he said. "Like… Draco. Or Blaise. Or Oliver Wood. You know, guys who are really… Draco-like. Obsessive about… their looks, I guess. How they present themselves."

"No," she laughed. "She was super into Eddie Carmichael for a while. She loves smooth talkers. Terry could talk to a brick wall and it'd still be an interesting conversation."

"Charming guys?"

Lenore nodded.

"Well, Terry is pretty charming. When he's not with Seamus. They bring out the worst in each other."

Lenore laughed. "God, I hate them together. It's not even Terry. Seamus just is constantly _on_ around Terry. He doesn't calm down and Terry hypes him up."

"Yes! Merlin, yes. It's awful."

Lenore smiled and crossed her arms, so that her inner forearms held Neville's cheeks. She kissed his hair multiple times, then rested her face on his shoulder. "Okay, I have to go. When do you want to read the letter tomorrow?"

He thought a moment. "After classes or after dinner. Whichever works best for you."

She shrugged. "Either one. Classes, I guess, so it's sooner. But Saturday morning, you want to go to that pre-quidditch party in Gryffindor? That's the double date with Terry and Odette, maybe. Or Friday night we could do something different, depending on what Terry wants."

"I'm free any day," he said. "I was planning on going to the game with Seamus though, to cheer Dean on. And you probably don't want to be seen with me."

"I can't be seen with a Gryffindor at the game," she giggled. "But I'll mentally be cheering for Dean. I hate everyone on the Slytherin team but I have to pretend I don't."

Neville's cheeks rose into a smile. "As long as they win games for you."

"Exactly."

She kissed his jaw and murmured, "Okay, I'm leaving."

Lenore started to lean back, until Neville held her elbows. "Wait."

She paused and so did he.

"What?" she finally asked.

"I… I don't know. I just… this is embarrassing… I like… being held."

Lenore giggled and touched her lips to his ear. "Starved for human interaction."

"H-honestly," he smiled.

"I'll tell you what," she murmured as she kissed up and down his jaw. "Tomorrow we'll sit on your bed and you can lean back into me and we'll read the letter."

"You'll be clingy?"

"I promise."

The two laughed together until Lenore planted a kiss on his lips. "Okay, I'll talk to you later. It's Thursday tomorrow, so you'll see plenty of me. Don't mention Odette to Terry. I want to catch him off guard."

"Okay," he laughed. "Sure."

"Bye."

"Bye, Len."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Lenore's POV**

"Terry!" she called.

It was bright and early on a Thursday morning, the week of the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry game. This would be Dean's first quidditch game ever and everyone was buzzing about thee young, new Gryffindor team. Slytherin was favored to win, but an upset victory was always possible. The Great Hall chattered excitedly about Saturday's game.

Terry turned around and met Lenore's eyes. "Hi, Lenny!"

"Hi! Are you interesting in anyone?" she asked briskly.

Terry blinked, obviously surprised, but Lenore was in a rush. "Well… not particularly. Why do you ask?"

"What do you think about Odette?"

He was visibly stunned. "Odette Trujillo?"

Lenore nodded.

Terry exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "She's gorgeous."

Lenore grinned. "Would you want to go on a double date with her and me and Neville?"

Terry just stared at her. "A date?"

Lenore nodded, which only seemed to confuse him more.

"Does… Is… is she interested in… me?"

"She just wants to find a nice guy and she asked me. I mentioned your name and she said sure."

"'A nice guy?'" he groaned.

"You are nice!" argued Lenore. "Don't do this. There's nothing wrong with being a nice guy. Girls like it."

Terry nodded. "Alright. I mean, yeah, I'll definitely go out on this double date thing."

"Okay," Lenore grinned. "You pick the day. Friday night or we go to the Gryffindor pre-game party on Saturday."

He raised his eyebrows. "You two would want to be seen in Gryffindor on Saturday?"

Lenore shrugged. "There will be plenty of other Slytherins there. We were all invited."

"Okay," Terry said. "Hmm… Woah. This is either tomorrow or in two days. I can't get hot enough for Odette in two days."

"You're cute!" Lenore argued.

Terry raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, okay, mate."

"Whatever." Lenore rolled her eyes. "You're a smart, funny guy. Don't worry. You're just hanging out, getting to know each other. It's only a date in name."

"Okay," he nodded. "Yeah, for sure. Odette seems super nice. For a Slytherin."

Lenore grinned. "She's the nicest girl in our dorm. Nicer than me."

"Mmm, is that a difficult task?"

Lenore reached across the desk and punched his arm. "Shut up! Friday or Saturday?"

"Saturday," Terry said. "I'm supposed to hang out with Seamus on Friday night."

Lenore groaned. "Don't get fucked up. You have to be charming the next afternoon."

"I can handle myself," he grinned. "We don't even do anything that warrants next-day sickness."

"Alright. Just come to Gryffindor at noon. You don't have to go to the game with her. We're sitting in the Slytherin section. Just the party. And maybe we could go to some after parties, I don't know. I hate the after parties, but I'll go."

"You hate the after parties?"

"Too rowdy. Especially the Gryffindor ones. They're all way too into it."

Terry laughed. "Hufflepuff parties are pretty wild, too."

"True. Okay, so noon. I'll bring Odette. Just a chill hangout."

"Okay," Terry nodded. He exhaled again. "Holy shit. Odette Trujillo."

Lenore laughed.

"I'm by far the ugliest guy she's ever gone on a date with."

"Wayne Hopkins is ugly and boring and she still had a decent time on a date with him."

"She went on a date with Wayne?" asked Terry.

Lenore nodded. "Yeah."

"Does he have an ugly guy fetish?"

"No!" Lenore laughed. "Terry, shut up, you sound like Neville."

"Neville's in the Ugly Club, too," Terry laughed.

Lenore pursed her lips and tried to stifle a laugh. Terry was such an arse.

"I'm in the what?" Neville asked from behind her.

Lenore turned around to view Neville, who looked amused. Next to him was Seamus, who performed an intricate handshake with Terry.

"The Ugly Club," Terry said louder. "Welcome to our first meeting."

Neville grinned. "Lenore is not in the Ugly Club."

"She's the visiting guest speaker," said Terry. "Inspiring us that we could one day look like her."

Lenore laughed. "No, hush."

Terry reached out to shake Neville's hand. "I hear we're going on a double date."

Neville nodded. "Yep. Friday or Saturday?"

"Saturday," said Terry.

"Wait," asked Seamus. "Terry and who?"

"Terry and Odette," said Lenore.

Seamus's jaw dropped. "Terry and Odette?"

Terry clapped his hand to his thigh as he yelled with laughter. "I fuckin' told you, Lenny!"

"Seamus!" Lenore said she elbowed him lightly. "They'd be cute together!"

"She's way out of my league," Terry chuckled.

"She is," Neville grinned. "But I mean… do you think she could have an interest in him?"

Lenore nodded. "She doesn't fancy him or anything. She just wants to give him a try."

"Ooo," Seamus squealed. "You know what Odette means by 'give him a try.'"

Lenore squinted and faced him head on. "What exactly does she mean, Seamus?"

Seamus backed down. He was obviously going to say something about how Odette was willing to do hand stuff, but instead he came up with, "She wants to enjoy a nice evening of witty banter."

Lenore glared at him. "You're goddamn right that's what she means."

Lenore turned to Terry. "Don't expect anything from her after I just told her you're a nice guy."

"I won't!" Terry said. "Merlin, Lenny! You think I'm like that?"

"I know you're not," she said. "That's why I recommended you."

"Thank you," the boy grinned. He had a really great smile, too, Lenore noticed. Hopefully Odette would at least find him entertaining.

"So tell me," Seamus said. "Am I invited?"

"Do you have a date?" Lenore asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"Then why would we invite you on our double date?"

Seamus frowned. "Alright fine. But you've got to tell me every last detail. If Odette goes for Terry, I need to be warned so I can go outside and see the pigs flying by."

Lenore smacked his arm as the other two boys laughed. "Hush! You'll be drunk anyway. Quit doing this thing about leagues. There aren't any leagues. Odette and Terry are both nice and quiet."

"Yeah, but Terry's shaped like a retired rugby player who's let himself go. Odette has the perkiest—"

"Shut up!" Lenore whined as she covered her ears. "God, can't you keep your dick quiet for just a moment? At least while I'm here?"

Seamus patted his trousers. "He won't be silenced."

Lenore glared at him, even she relented a smile. "You are literally the worst. Why do you think I mentioned Terry's name to her instead of yours?"

"Because he's mean," Terry answered for him.

Seamus scowled. "I can be nice!"

"You'd stare at her breasts the entire time," said Lenore.

"She does have nice ones."

"Seamus!" she shouted. "Quit being a pervert!"

"Tell me she doesn't have nice breasts!" he said. "Oh Merlin, I bet you've seen her topless."

Lenore folded her arms. "I bet you've seen Neville pantsless."

"Don't bring me into this!" Neville shook his head.

"Rank the members of your dorm by best breasts," Seamus said to Lenore.

"Rank the members of your dorm by best dick," she replied.

Seamus was quiet a moment and Lenore thought he was going to apologize, until he said. "Me, Ron, Dean, Neville, Harry."

Terry exploded with laughter. Lenore's face flushed red and her eyes widened. Neville's mouth dropped open. "Why am I second to last?"

That only made Terry laugh harder, which got Lenore laughing.

Seamus shrugged. "No real reason. Ours are just better."

"No," Neville said. "I want details. If you're going to embarrass me, do it full out."

"Yes!" Lenore said. "God, I am loving this conversation."

"Oh me, too," Terry nodded.

"I'm not," Neville frowned.

Seamus grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Obviously not, jackass. Fine, I'll tell you. Mine is the best because, obviously. Ron because—"

"You're such a liar," Neville interrupted.

"You're not being objective!" Lenore said.

"Longbottom," said Terry. "Give us your objective list."

"Good idea!" Lenore grabbed Terry's arm. "Come on, Neville!"

Neville flushed red and searched his mind. "O-okay… Dean, Ron, m-me, Seamus, Harry."

"I love how Harry didn't move," Lenore giggled. "So he's definitely got the worst one."

"They're not bad!" Seamus cut in. "Honestly, fucking anybody in our dorm would be a luxury. Nothing too weird. No micropenises or weird balls or anything. I'm just working off aesthetics."

"Dick aesthetics?" Lenore giggled.

"Yes!" Seamus argued. "Neville, why did you switch Dean and Ron?"

Neville shrugged. "R-ron's… hair. It's unsettling. A-and Dean's bigger."

"I'm talking dick, not pubic hair! And Ron's is smoother. Dean's is veiny."

"Aaa!" Lenore squealed as she covered her ears. "Please don't!"

"You asked, missy!" Seamus laughed as he yanked her hands away from her ears. "So I'm going to tell you! Neville is lower on the list because he's got a—"

Neville clapped his hand over Seamus's mouth immediately. The boy struggled to free himself from Neville's arms as Lenore giggled. "Nev, let him talk."

"N-no!" he said. "God, this is embarrassing. We are not having this conversation in the middle of the Great Hall."

She smiled and touched a hand to his arm. "Okay. Anyway, Seamus, I'm not going to rank boobs."

"No!" Seamus said from behind Neville's hand. Neville let go of him. "Come on! I did cocks!"

"You did cocks?"

"I—" But he was interrupted by Terry and Neville's wild laughter. "—Shut up!" He cracked a smile. "God, you're all the worst."

Lenore smirked. "Have you ever actually seen a girl topless in real life?"

Seamus frowned but did not reply.

"He hasn't," Terry grinned. "I don't think any of us have. Unless I don't know about Nev—"

"No," he shook his head.

"He's touched bare breasts and Seamus and I haven't," said Terry.

Lenore laughed at Neville, who was beet red. "Look at you! The advanced one in the group!"

He smiled softly at her.

"Let me rank," Seamus said.

Lenore rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Seamus blurted out, "Circe, Odette, Blair, Lenore, Pansy. Terry, go."

"No!" Terry said. "I don't pay enough attention to them to know."

"Neville, go."

"Len, Len, Len, Len and L—"

"Okay," Seamus scoffed.

Lenore beamed and kissed Neville's jawline.

"I'll change my answer," Terry said. "I agree with Neville."

"Thank you!" Lenore giggled. "So, it's two votes to one, Seamus, I guess that one wins."

"You rank, Len," said Seamus.

"No way," she said. "They're just boobs. You know damn well you'd be lucky just to touch any boobs. So shut the hell up."

Seamus grinned. "Fine. Come on Terry, let's go eat. Neville, are you coming?"

"I've got to go," Lenore said.

"Hang on," Neville said to Lenore. "I'll be there in just a minute, mate."

Seamus and Terry turned to leave and Neville grabbed her hand.

She smiled at him and he gave her a small grin, then returned to normal. "Weren't… weren't we supposed to do something Friday?"

Lenore stared at him. "Oh shoot! We were. Do you think that's too much time to be together?"

Neville shrugged. "No, I just… want to be alone with you… sometime soon."

Her eyes flickered over his face, then she laughed. "You just want to snog me."

"N-no!" he said. "I-I don't… I… No."

"Then what?" she teased.

"I…"

But he fell silent. It had been a while since Lenore full-on made out with him. Nearly two weeks on Friday, actually. Sure they had kissed quite a bit and even made out for a couple minutes, but it wasn't really a snog unless it lasted at least fifteen minutes. Neville was obviously looking forward to Friday.

Lenore stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Just say you want to snog me and we will."

"I-I… I was… kind of… really wanting to…"

"To what?"

"To snog you," he admitted. "A-and we can't really do that on a double date."

Lenore rubbed his back and stood on her tip-toes, so she could whisper in his ear. "I'll tell you what, after the quidditch game, we can snog. Skip the after parties. If Gryffindor wins, you dominate me. If Slytherin wins, I dominate you."

"Holy shit," he exhaled. "O-okay. Wow."

"I know it's been a while."

"It's fine!" he said genuinely. "Don't think I'm complaining. I understand completely. We're both so busy."

"Okay," she murmured in close to his ear. "Remember how you said you wanted to bend me over a desk?"

"Y-yeah."

"Do it. Saturday evening. We'll sneak into a classroom and you can bend me over anything you want."

"Bloody hell, Len," he whimpered as he rested his forehead against her hair.

She laughed. "Okay. I've got to go tell Odette. Double date at noon in your common room."

"Alright," he smiled. "I can't wait."

Lenore grinned. "Alright. But tonight, after classes, we're reading your letter."

Neville nodded.

"And I mean, we can make out a little after we read the letter, but I probably won't be in the mood and neither will you."

"We'll see," he smiled.

Lenore rolled her eyes, but grinned. "Okay. Talk to you later."

"See you," he said.

Lenore pulled his head down to her and kissed him sweetly. As she let go, Neville met her eye and she grinned. Her stomach flipped and she had to admit she was incredibly excited for the rest of this week as well. "Bye."

"Bye."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Neville's POV**

"Alright!" Lenore said as she flopped out on his bed. "You ready?"

Neville nodded, but inside he was shaking with nerves. He had wondered all night what could be in the letter. It was entire possible that Mrs. Weasley didn't even know his parents, or at least not well enough to give Neville the information he wanted. However, it was more likely that Mrs. Weasley would be kind enough to give him information. Gran rarely told him about his parents. He had had to go off old photographs of them and try to read their body language. In photos he had seen, his dad always seemed nervous, but full of admiration. Alice always smiled her toothy grin, showing the tiny gap between her two front teeth. Younger photos of the pair showed Alice's curly blonde hair, full lips, and of course her classic gap. Frank started to lose his hair around age 19, which Neville prayed would not happen to him. His grandfather had a full head of hair until until the day he died, so if male baldness truly did come from his mother's side, Neville would be fine.

"If I starting going bald, would you still date me?"

Lenore looked at him like he had just spoken nonsense. "What are you talking about?"

"I-I'm thinking about how my dad started going bald so young."

Lenore clicked her tongue. "Well… is he bald now?"

"Not as much as I'd expect," Neville said. "Just thinning. Like a bigger forehead than normal. So… I don't know. I'd expect the balding to be worse after the… torture. My mum's hair is thin."

Lenore took his hand. "Of course I'd still date you."

"Okay," he smiled.

"Your hair isn't you," she smiled shyly. "You're you."

Neville leaned in to kiss her, then she teased, "But then you still have to date if I get fat."

"More of you to love," he whispered.

Lenore laughed loudly. "Okay, thanks. So, you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?"

Neville cringed. "I hate those words."

She laughed. "Just answer! Tell me where to sit."

Neville leaned up against his headboard and opened his thighs. "Y-you sit here."

Lenore laughed and sat between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered, "You read it to me."

"All of it?"

"I like your voice."

She smiled as he kissed her cheek and nestled his face against her hair. Her nimble fingers tore open the seal and she flipped the letter open. Jittery nerves plagued his hands and he kissed Lenore one more time, on the lips, as she unfurled the five-page letter.

" _Dear Lenore_ ," she read. " _Hello, darling! Of course I know who you are. Your father was two years above my brothers. They knew him quite well, as I vaguely recall. I know you're friends with Fred and George and Margaux is friends with Ginny. I hope you're all doing well. I did not know little Neville Longbottom had a girlfriend! How cute. Tell him I said hello and that Augusta beat the pants off my aunt in poker last week._ "

Lenore paused. "Is that all your grandmother does? Play card games with other purebloods?"

Neville nodded and smiled. "Every two weeks, she has a set group to play canasta at our house and then about once a month a ton of old ladies play card games in each other's houses."

Lenore giggled. "Okay, moving on. _Anyway, you asked me about Frank and Alice. I understand Augusta wouldn't know how her kids acted around each other. Arthur and I did some things we would never, ever tell our parents. Of course, you know, Arthur and I are nine years older than your parents, so we didn't grow up with them, but Arthur and I would go to Order meetings when we could find someone to watch the kids. We were more moral support than anything— cooking meals, mending clothes, Arthur providing Ministry advice and you know I've always been good with Charms. It was hard with five young kids, though, and then being pregnant with Ron. I was pregnant at the same time as Alice, her just a couple months behind me. She would ask me for advice or complain to me. I remember one time during a meeting, baby Neville was absolutely stomping on her bladder. She got up about seven times during the meeting to use the restroom because he wouldn't settle down. She was on the verge of tears, embarrassed that she couldn't do her job, and I said, "Honey, it'll all be worth it, trust me.'"_

Neville dug his fingers into Lenore hips and she leaned up to kiss his jaw.

" _I could tell you some other stories about pregnant Alice. She was worried because she couldn't stop eating tortilla chips, but those were just cravings. She got morning sickness even into her third trimester, but she powered through. She told me Frank was terrified to be a dad, but she knew he would be great it. And he was. When Neville was born, Frank would take him to Order meetings and he'd sit quietly in his arms, just sleeping. James and Lily would bring Harry, but he was a rowdy little thing. There was one time we put Harry, Neville, and Ron in a play pin and I watched over them as Frank and James led a meeting. They all just napped together peacefully, without a care in the world."_

"I didn't know I ever interacted Harry and Ron," Neville said.

"I bet you hung out with Harry a lot that first year."

Neville nodded, but remained silent. He wanted her to continue reading the letter. They were only about a page in.

" _Remus Lupin loved children. He would watch over Neville and Harry if their parents were busy. I came in one day and Remus had Harry on one knee and Neville on the other, just sitting on the couch at the meeting house. Neville was an easy-going baby, but he would cry more than Harry. Harry just talked a lot, making nonsense sounds. I don't remember hearing Harry cry but a few times, but Neville's shrieking would drive Alice to her wits end. Alice had a sensitive soul and the sound of her child crying broke her heart. James Potter was the same way. They'd get all blubbery and emotional and Frank and Lily would have to swoop in and calm the baby and the parent down."_

Neville laughed, which made Lenore stop reading. "This is so cute," she said.

He kissed her neck. "It is."

Lenore continued. " _Alice and Frank completed each other, I think. They were both quiet, strong leaders. Frank had a temper, but Alice could get just as worked up, if not more. I remember one day, something in a mission went terribly wrong. Frank blew up, along with Sirius Black, after Benjy Fenwick's murder. There were things we could have done to protect Benjy better, but we didn't do them. Frank and Sirius, an odd combination if I ever saw one, because apparently Frank, as Head Boy, would always bust Sirius for various discrepancies. Like being out past curfew or skipping class, etc. But they were amiable toward each other. Anyway, while Frank yelled, that was the angriest I had ever seen him. Lily took Neville and Harry outside the room because the yelling upset Neville so much."_

"You sound like a big baby," Lenore giggled.

"I was a baby!" he laughed.

She pecked his lips and flipped the page. " _Frank was a strong leader. Possibly the best leader in the Order, in my opinion. He was kind, commanding, and sensitive enough to know other people's fears. The man had great intuition and his gut-feeling was right every single time. Alice was a sweetheart. One of the kindest, friendliest people I've ever known. She was shy, but if you talked to her first, she could keep the conversation going for hours. She had this way of making you feel wanted, like she truly cared about what you had to say. She had a temper, like Frank, and her Charm skills were unbelievable. Mad Eye Moody put her in charge of setting protective charms at every single meeting. Both were highly-skilled aurors and everyone knew they were some of the most talented members of the Order. Now, let me tell you about their wedding, then I'll go on about their romance."_

Lenore gasped, which made Neville chuckle. "Yes!"

" _They got married at the Ministry, with I believe just James and Lily as their witnesses. James and Lily got married immediately after seventh year. June of 1978, I believe, and of course your parents got married that same year, in October. They were nineteen and I believe they got married around their four year anniversary. They weren't together all those years, I'm sorry to say. Alice broke up with Frank for a few months their seventh year because she thought he was cheating on her. Frank wasn't, however, he was just scared of being in a relationship for so long. Alice actually had a brief fling with Sirius in that time, I recall Lily telling me."_

Neville crinkled his nose. "What?"

"She went for the bad boy, then went back to your dad," Lenore laughed.

Neville's heart pounded. "I-I didn't know they had broken up."

Lenore shrugged. "They still ended up with each other."

He nodded slowly. "O-okay, keep reading."

" _But they got back together soon enough, more in love than ever. They'd been out of school for over a year and they decided, with the war coming up, they better get married just in case something were to happen to each other. They lived dangerous lives. Working as aurors in the day and Order members in the night. They truly were partners, so they married quickly, because it was already kind of like they were married. They came back from the ministry and held a small reception in Augusta's living room. Alice wore the prettiest lacy white dress and Frank had on a brown suit and a bow tie. Alice's hair was cropped short at this time, in an attempt to get it out of her face while she worked. It was one less thing to worry about. She dyed it black, I believe, or dark brown, because she was angry. It was an impulse. Augusta hated it, I remember that, but Frank did not care one bit. Merlin, I wish you both could've seen the way Frank was looking at Alice at that reception. I thought Arthur was a sensitive guy, but any girl would swoon if a bloke looked at them the way Frank looked at Alice. With the most love I have ever seen from two human beings."_

Lenore pouted and rested her jaw for a just a second.

"Are you tired of reading?" Neville asked. "Here, I'll read it aloud."

Lenore passed him the papers and he continued for her as soon as he figured out where she left off. " _Their reception was small, about twenty people there, most of them already in the Order. I recall it being one of the high points of the Order. Frank and Alice's wedding, Harry and Neville's birth, when we all found out Caradoc Dearborn was engaged. Speaking of, I don't think Neville's parents ever got engaged. I think it was a spur of the moment thing. Frank bought Alice the cutest little ring, though."_

Neville paused as he read the next sentence to himself.

"What?" Lenore asked.

His head pounded, his hands shook, as he read, " _It was a gold band with a small pink pearl in the center and two rubies on either side."_

He stayed silent as tears filled his eyes. "L-len," he said slowly. "T-they never found m-my parents wedding rings."

Lenore gripped his hand as he burst into tears he could not explain to her. She flipped around and held his back. "It's okay, Nev."

"N-no," he stammered as he wiped his eyes. He had to get ahold of himself, this was embarrassing. "W-when I was… when I was at the D-department of Mysteries… Bellatrix… she… she had a ring. A-a gold ring with a pink pearl and two rubies."

Lenore gasped and Neville wiped his flowing tears.

"Wait," she said. "On her hand? You think Bellatrix is wearing your mother's ring?"

Neville nodded. "I-I saw it w-while s-she was holding me. I clearly remember it."

"You don't think it's a coincidence?"

Neville shook his head and broke down into a sob.

"Neville!" Lenore said. She cradled him in her arms and held his head steady against her chest. "Honey…"

But she fell silent. Neville hated that he was putting this on her. He shouldn't have said anything, he should've just kept quiet. Still, he tried to calm himself down. His mother's attempted murderer was wearing her wedding band. The wedding band his father had had picked for Alice. He wondered if Bellatrix stole it off his mother's tortured body as she ran away, or if she took it to taunt Alice and Frank. The thought made him cry even more. He could not imagine the amount of pain his parents experienced. He had felt the cruciatus curse for about fifteen seconds at the Department of Mysteries, but it felt like a lifetime. It was the most painful thing he had ever experienced and he was sure Bellatrix hadn't even been using her full power on him. His parents were no doubt hit by multiple people at once, for much longer than fifteen seconds.

"Nev," Lenore whispered over his violent tears, "baby, I'm sorry."

She rested her cheek on top of his head and Neville knew at once that she was crying, as well. His fingers plunged into her back and he held her steady.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice quiet so he wouldn't be able to hear her breaks, but he still could. "I'm so sorry. I… I wish we could get it back."

"I don't want it," he whimpered. "Not after she's worn it for so long. I-I just don't want her to have it."

"I know," she breathed. "I know, sweetie."

She stroked her fingers through his hair as he calmed himself down. When he stopped audibly crying, Lenore sat back on her legs and covered his bottom lip with hers. He kissed her back immediately, reciprocating her strength and care. Merlin, she was so sweet, so kind. He was so embarrassing. How many times had he cried in front of her now? God, it had to be at least three. He was a sensitive guy, but this was a little excessive.

"Sorry," he whispered as he pulled away.

Lenore met his eye. "For what?"

"For… for crying. And making you cry."

She let out a single giggle. "No, Nev, it's okay. I understand. You've had a hard life. I want you to feel every emotion so you can work through it."

"I-I… don't know why I-I'm crying so much lately," he said.

"Me, too," she said gently. "We're just growing up. Life's getting harder and we're realizing more about the world around us. It's going to be rough these next few years, honestly. The world is changing so fast and we're changing, too. It's scary. But we have friends and family and even each other to help us."

Neville nodded. "You're right. There's just so much going on. So many terrifying things. I mean… the Department of Mysteries, the Azkaban breakout, the new Minster, the corrupt media, like, it's all happening so fast. Not to mention personal stuff. Len… our world is about to get really shitty, I know it."

Lenore frowned. "I know it, too. We're heading for war. I don't know when. But soon."

"And it's just going to be like my parents all over again," he said. "People are going to die, but it's not going to be our parents' friends, it's going to be our friends."

Lenore pouted as tears filled her eyes. "I know. We all know, we just can't admit it."

Neville pulled her close and squeezed her as she held the back of his head with her forearms. They rested silently in each other's arms until finally Lenore sat back to look at him. Her big green eyes flickered over his, watching him with so much care. He knew what she was about to do. She wanted him. Her lips smashed against his and he immediately returned her powerful kisses. Merlin, all this talk about war and death really got her going. Before he knew what was happening, he was flat on his back and Lenore straddled him, kissing him with more fervor than ever. She clearly wanted to make him feel better and he gratefully accepted. The more she kissed him, the more he realized she wanted him to make her feel better as well. She was being rough with him and he loved it. Merlin, she was a take-charge girl, running her hands all over his body, slipping her tongue into his mouth, straddling his hips. He barely knew what had hit him and even now he could not focus on every little thing she was doing to him.

He chuckled.

"What?"

As he talked, she moved to his jaw, "I thought you said you wouldn't be in the mood today?"

"Shut up," she smiled before meeting his mouth again.

A tremor ran across his stomach as she kissed him harder, deeper, her tongue tangoing with his and making his entire body go weak. He let out a small, shocked groan, which made her moan loudly against his mouth. He pulled her down, so that she laid on top of his body and her hands weaved their way into his hair. He lost himself in her kisses, in her tongue and her hips and her fingers. This girl meant everything to him. Intelligence, beauty, strength, kindness, humor, she had it all.

Her whimper interrupted his thoughts.

"I thought—" She interrupted him with a kiss, then relented. "—we were waiting—" He kissed her. "—until tomorrow to see who's dominant."

She giggled. "Roll on top of me, then."

Neville hesitated, and Lenore reached around her back during his pause. She was messing with her bra hooks. Neville's eyes widened, but before he could say anything, she leaned down to kiss his lips. He felt her shimmying, and then she leaned back on her knees and pulled her bra directly out of her school uniform shirt collar. His mouth tumbled open as he caught sight of the nude, lacy bra flung out onto his bed. Lenore leaned back down to kiss him, then laid her body down on him. He gasped and whimpered. Merlin, he could tell she was not wearing a bra. Even through her uniform shirt, his sweater and his uniform shirt, he could feel the lack of firm cups. She was must softer this way, much warmer and more… her. He felt like he was closer to her. Slowly, he slid his hands inside her shirt, up her bare back. For a while, he simply rested his hands on her lower back, absorbing her warmth as they kissed.

"Go higher," she murmured.

He knew she wanted him to cup her breasts. Slowly, his hands slid up and toward her front. He had no idea how to do this without exposing her breasts. She obviously didn't want him to see, so he decided to be very careful about opening his eyes. He continued to kiss her, then maneuvered his palms to the sides of her breasts. He cupped his thumb below and held her in his other four fingers. She moaned and smiled, which made his stomach churn. This was the… fourth time he had touched her breasts? Yeah, four times. It got better every single time. The first two times, she told him not to worry about her. Toward the end of the third time, he started playing with her nipples, which elicited an incredible response, but they had to stop after only a few seconds because they heard Seamus rattling at the dormitory door.

This time, however, he was determined to make her feel good. He slid his thumbs gently over her nipples which made her gasp. Neville adjusted his hand position so he could cup her, then he flicked his pointer fingers over her. She gasped again and whimpered, "Nev, yes."

His stomach flipped, but he kept up his motion, flicking the side of his fingers over her nipples, up and down, each time making her gasp or moan or whimper. He loved doing this. She obviously enjoyed it, which made him like it a thousand times more.

"Faster," she begged. "Softer."

Neville obeyed her commands and she immediately hummed with pleasure. He changed his motion and began circling her nipples, which made her kiss him harder. He gave her entire breast a squeeze, which she seemed to like every so often. He worked her mouth with his tongue, her breasts with his hands and he even rubbed her calve with his foot. She smiled briefly against his lips and he could not stop himself from telling her how much he liked her on top of him.

"Len," he murmured. "I love you."

Lenore stopped kissing him at once and he realized his mistake.

"This!" he gasped. "I love _this_!"

Lenore exhaled the breath she had been holding and smiled. She continued kissing him, trying to put the faux pas past them, but Neville's brain spun. His tongue had slipped and admitted his love for her. He really did mean "this" but "you" just tumbled out of his mouth. He began to panic.

"L-len, I-I swear I meant 'this.'"

"I know," she murmured between kisses. "Don't worry."

Still, his lips slowed until he was no longer kissing her. He could feel his palms sweating profusely and he moved his hands away from her breasts so she wouldn't feel it. Finally, she noticed he was acting strange and she pulled away. Lenore pulled away to look into his blurry eyes. "Did… did you want to talk about it?"

He stayed silent and she stared at him for a while, silently watching his eyes move everywhere but towards hers. Finally, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"L-l-len," he stammered. "I swear, I meant 'this.'"

"Okay," she said. "I believe you."

She tried kissing him again, but he did not reciprocate. Again, she pulled away.

"Oh Merlin," he buried his face into his hands. He was vaguely aware his breathing had quickened. His chest tightened and his head pounded with each heavy beat of his heart. His was now breathing a lot. Too much. But not enough. No matter how much he inhaled, he did not seem able to get oxygen to his body.

"Neville, are you okay?"

He could feel his hands trembling against his forehead. "Y-y-yeah."

"It's okay, really," she said. "Please don't worry about it."

Neville did not reply. His throat seemed to close up every time he tried to speak.

"Nev, you're shaking!"

He lifted his face up and looked her in the eye. "I… I'm not okay."

She immediately climbed off of him. For a second, Neville thought she was leaving.

"Just breath, Neville," she said gently.

Neville bit his lip and stared at the ceiling, hoping this would all be over soon. The more he thought about Lenore next to him, witnessing all this, the heavier his breathing grew. His hands went numb.

"Neville, can you breathe with me?" she begged. "In."

She took a deep breath. "Out."

Her exhalation required more time, so he copied her. He shut his eyes and breathed along with her in pace.

"Do you want me near you, or does that make it worse?" she asked.

"N-near."

The sound of his own anxious voice caused him to furrow his eyebrows. Lenore clutched his hand. "Is this okay?"

He nodded. She sat on the ground and leaned her back against the wall. She wrapped his arm over her shoulder and held his hand in front of her. "I want you to keep breathing like that. In… and out slower."

He tried as best he could to regulate his breathing, but every so often, he would gasp loudly, as if drowning.

"You're going to be okay," she said as she stroked her thumb against the back of his hand. "Just keep breathing, you're doing great."

He closed his eyes and forgot everything around him except the sound of his nostrils flaring. Or he tried to at least. He could not forget himself saying those words out loud to Lenore. And it only opened a flood of emotions and fear he had kept back for a long time. He started thinking about the Department of Mysteries, about the time his mother screamed at the sight of him because she thought he was a stranger, about when Randall Quinten called him a "spineless orphan." It all came flooding back to his mind. Things he did not even realize had bothered him came to the front of his brain, and he could not stop overthinking. He could feel his limbs shaking, except for his right hand, which Lenore held tightly.

"Neville, we're going to play a game," she said softly. "Tell me five things you hear."

He snapped out of his daze. "H-hear?"

"Yeah," she said. "Five things you hear right now around you."

Neville focused on the sounds around him, taking in all his surroundings carefully. "I-I hear myself breathing."

"What else?"

He failed to breathe correctly and began his sentence with a loud gasp. "Th-that door just slammed… your breathing… t-the heater… rain on the w-window."

"Good. Tell me five things you see."

Neville opened his eyes slowly. The room was spinning but he managed to take a long look around. "T-the canopy… water drops on the window… the bed posts… my shirt… th-the sheets."

She stroked his hand with her thumb. "What about five things you feel?"

He thought a moment. "O-obviously your hand. Ummm… the comforter. My clothes. My… feet in my socks? Your knee near my elbow."

"What's your favorite thing you see right now?"

"Y-you."

She gave him a small smile. "I meant like fixtures in the room, but thank you."

He gulped. "I-I like the raindrops on the window. I may not like rain, but I do like watching it from inside."

She squeezed his hand. "What's your favorite place in the castle?"

"I-I like the greenhouses. And my dorm."

"Why the greenhouses?"

"I-I don't know. I just do. It's warm and there's always something interesting in there."

"What did you learn in Herbology today?"

"L-learn? Nothing actually, it was a review day for the test next Tuesday."

"Are you going to study this weekend?"

"No, honestly, probably not. I feel like I know the material pretty well at this point. I need to work on papers for other classes. Plus the quidditch game."

She tilted her head so it rested on his arm. "Have you noticed your breathing is back to normal?"

Neville glanced down at his chest, which no longer rapidly constricted. His throat still hurt and his hands were numb, but he was breathing normally. "I-I didn't even notice."

She flipped her body so that she was looking at him. "Do you want to talk about anything?"

He shook his head vigorously. "No, too embarrassing."

"Okay. But you have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I-I do," he breathed. "Merlin, I do so many embarrassing things around you."

She smiled slightly. "I do, too, around you."

"N-none that I can think of."

"Ha! Just to name a few: I told you your toad was old enough to die, I sobbed like a baby in front of you, when I hugged you in the hospital wing after the Ministry thing… that was embarrassing."

"No," he said quickly. "I-I didn't mind that. Or any of those things."

"And I don't mind any of the things you do."

Neville's lips parted. She genuinely seemed to mean it. He stared into her eyes and after a while said, "The hug, in the hospital room, you were embarrassed?"

"I still kind of am," she smiled. "It was weird. We weren't dating or anything and I just attacked you, after all you'd been through. I don't know, when I hugged you goodbye, that made sense. But waiting outside your hospital room and hugging you? When we weren't dating or flirting or anything? That was weird."

Neville spoke slower than he intended. "No… I… I liked it. More than liked it. I… needed it, after all that."

She placed another hand over his and turned his palm over. "What do you mean?"

"I-I mean… after seeing all the destruction and violence… it was good to have decent contact. Or, I don't know what the right words are. Contact that wasn't… punching or being held down."

He was sure he looked extremely nervous. He had not started this conversation intending to tell her about the battle, but somehow his words always spilled out before he could control them. It was what started this entire episode.

Lenore kissed his hand, which he noticed was no longer numb. She whispered, "Do you think about the battle a lot?"

He took a while to decide how to answer. "N-not a lot. Mostly at night."

"Night is the worst," she said. "Like right when you're going to sleep?"

He nodded.

"Yep, that's when things hit me, too."

He squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring soft smile.

"So," she said, "have you ever had an anxiety attack before?"

"Y-yeah," he whispered. "Never one that bad, though."

"Did you only start getting them after the battle, or ever before?"

"After," he sighed. "Never before."

"So, this one… was it about more than just your words?"

He bit his lip. "I've been feeling anxious a lot lately."

"Why?" she asked, never moving her eyes from his. "The letter?"

He nodded. "And being back here at Hogwarts, I think. It makes it that much more real. I think the words just set me off."

She nodded. "I understand that. What I don't understand is why the words upset you so much?"

"Because they're real."

He clapped a free hand over his mouth as he gasped. Lenore's jaw dropped as she stared at him. Neville shut his eyes tight and slide his hands up to cover his eyes. "I-I didn't mean that, I-I— I don't know, Len. P-please just forget I said that. Please."

"No, tell me what you mean."

Neville whimpered into his hands. "Merlin, this just keep getting worse."

"Neville, I… I want to know what you mean."

"I-I can't tell you," he said. "You don't want to hear. It's too soon. I-I don't want to scare you away. Len, I-I don't want you to-to… I don't know. I don't know."

She was silent for a while, until she whispered, "You… love me?"

Slowly, oh so slowly, he felt himself nod. Merlin, this could not be happening. "Please don't think I'm weird. I just— I've fancied you for so long and the words came out before I could think and you definitely, definitely don't have to say it back any time soon. It was the worst possible thing for me to say because I know you don't feel the same way and we're so young and we've only been dating like three months and—"

Her lips crashed against his mouth, cutting his rant short, as he tensed in surprise. After a second of hesitation, he placed a hand in her hair and returned the passionate kisses. God, did she feel wonderful. He knew she did not love him, but something in the kiss told him she could one day.

"Neville," she said as she pulled back, "don't worry about it. Honestly. I don't mind. Just… just give me time, okay? I'm not ready to say it back. But, I want to say it to you, one day soon. You mean the world to me, Nev, you just have to give me time."

"I will," he whispered, his entire body trembling. "D-don't feel pressured to say it."

"Oh," she smiled. "I won't. I run on my own time, you don't have to worry about that."

He grinned. "I know. Thank you."

She squeezed his hand. "It's okay. Remember we agreed to say 'I'm in love with you?' Just think of this as a dry run. A practice for the real thing."

Neville bit his cheek. "Okay. But… I… I really… do feel that way. Th-that wasn't practice. It was a dumb mistake."

Lenore paused and Neville sat up to look at her. "I… I do love you. A-a lot. A-and I… I don't… I don't want you to take this lightly."

"So… you are in love with me?"

He nodded, and Lenore soon joined him in the nod. "Alright. Wow."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "Okay," she smiled for the first time in what seemed like forever. "That's perfectly alright with me."

Neville exhaled a laugh. "I-I'll be a ball of nerves until you say it back, but… I'm sorry I said it this way."

"You're good. I… I think deep down I knew you did. And I'm sure deep down I feel the same way. It'll just take me a minute a dig it up."

"Alright," he grinned. "That's enough for me."

Lenore cupped his jaw and kissed his lips, then moved down to his jaw and neck. "Meanwhile," she said between pecks, "I respect you." A peck. "I adore you." A peck. "I appreciate you." A peck.

Neville laughed with her until she returned to his lips.

"You know," she said as the leaned away. "I'm going to sound like an idiot, but I think there are stages of love. Stay with me on this, even though it's a little odd. I think the lowest level is 'I fancy you,' followed by, 'love ya," then 'I love you' I can't really explain these levels, and I think there are more than three, but let's just stick with the three for now. You're at the 'I love you' level?"

He nodded.

"Well, I'm at the 'love ya' level. I more than fancy you, and I love you, but I don't love you-love you, you know? I'm not in love with you. I'm in the stage right before that. To me, 'love ya' means you appreciate a person for everything that they are. You want only the best for them and you want to be around them as much as possible. 'I love you' is more than that. I can't quite explain it, because I've never felt it, but I know I have more love to give you than I feel right now. And it's nothing you're doing. I'm just not ready."

"I completely understand," he said as he laid a kiss on her forehead.

"You do?"

"I understand you're a little odd, yeah."

"Nev," she giggled, "hush."

"No, I get you," he laughed. "I understand completely. You take your time. I'm not going to say it again. You're going to say it first next time."

"Okay," she smiled. "Also… Are you… sure? You've given this plenty of thought? You didn't just say it on a whim? Slip of the tongue? If you're not sure, I won't be upset, I just want to know."

"I… I'm sure," he whispered. "I've… I've f-felt it for a little while now."

She hesitated."What's a little while?"

He shrugged, hoping to avoid the question.

"Okay," she shook her head. "I don't want to know. Tell me when I tell you. Any amount of time is fine. It's okay. I love that you love me. Wait… maybe that's not a great thing to say."

He smiled. "But it is a very Slytherin thing to say."

"Alright!" she laughed. "Come on. We have more of your letter to read."

Neville kissed her and pulled her into a hug. "This last hour has been wild."

"Yeah, well, we've got two more pages to read, so just don't do anything too wild and it'll be fine."

Lenore picked up the letter. "Where did we leave off?"

"The ring."

She glanced up at him. "Oh yeah. Ha. Okay…" She paused. "Wait, sorry, I'm going to put my bra back on. This shirt is tight and you can see my nipples."

"That's okay."

He cringed as her mouth dropped open. "No! I mean… god, I need to stop talking. I was addressing your 'sorry.'"

She smiled and picked up her bra. She picked up his arm and slipped his left arm through the hole, then did the same thing to his other side. He glanced down at her bra hanging loosely on his chest. "I love it."

She giggled. "You keep it safe for me."

Neville adjusted the straps on his shoulder so it stayed firmly against his chest. "You got it."

Lenore smiled brightly and kissed him, then flipped her hair behind her ear, which made Neville's heart race. Merlin, was she gorgeous.

"Okay!" She returned to the letter. " _The reception was a lot of fun. Nearly everybody was drunk, including Augusta._ "

"God," Neville interrupted. "She's a wild drunk."

Lenore laughed. " _But enough about the wedding. You asked about your parent's flirting. I bet you're a sensitive boy, Neville. Both your parents were. Frank was the biggest flirt to Alice. When she was gone, there was no other women in the room. When she was present, there were no other women in the room except for her. I've already mentioned the way he looked at her, but it's worth mentioning again. He loved her and it was obvious. He would hold her hand or touch a hand to her back or whisper to her. Before he spoke at meetings, he would run things past Alice to get her opinion. He valued everything she had to say. They almost always got partnered up on missions, or else they'd be a nervous wreck until one of them got back. Of course, when Alice became pregnant, that got harder. Frank would have to leave and Alice would wait back at the house for him, sitting very solemn. Before he left, he would kiss a little heart pattern into her cheek. When he came back, he would kiss a heart onto the other cheek. James Potter used to tease him, until he started doing the same thing with Lily."_

Lenore pouted. "I want to die, that is so cute."

"I'll do that," he whispered, "if I ever have to do something like the Department of Mysteries again."

"I should've done it that time," she grinned. "But I think one kiss was shocking enough."

"It was. Merlin, I about had a heart attack. But thank you. I-it really… I don't know. It distracted me from being nervous about the mission."

Lenore smiled and squeezed his hand, then kept reading. " _Alice was just as sweet as Frank, but she was definitely the more level-headed one in the relationship. Frank was driven by emotions, Alice was able to be objective. She could always calm Frank down if he got overheated or bring him back if he got discouraged. So, your original question was, were they fans of PDA? I asked Fred what 'PDA' meant —"_

Lenore began giggling so hard that Neville had to grab the letter out of her hand and continue reading for her. "— _and now I can confidently tell you, your parents did partake in plenty of 'PDA' but they weren't showy about it—"_

"Lenore! he giggled. "Quit laughing so hard!"

"Eee!" she squealed as he poked her sides.

He smiled and shook as his head as he kept reading. _"Everyone knew they were in love. It was obvious, even to people who didn't know them. Your parents had, and I know deep down still have, a love of the ages. We should all be so lucky to find a love like Frank and Alice Longbottom. Xx. Molly. PS—"_

Neville glanced over the words, then looked at Lenore. "Pay attention to this: _PS- I bet Neville acts exactly like Frank. They are both sweethearts. Don't let him get away, Lenore."_

"It does not say that!" she giggled.

Lenore grabbed the letter and scanned the bottom. "Oh. It does."

"Yeah!" he laughed.

She handed the letter back to him. "Damn, that was a lot more information than I thought she'd give."

"That's almost more information than I've ever gotten from Gran," he exhaled. "Wow."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. Then, she paused and squeezed the cups of her bra, which still rested on his chest. He glanced between her hands and her eyes and laughed. "How would you like it if I did that to you?"

"I wouldn't like it very much at all."

"Exactly," he said as he shrugged her away. "Don't grope me."

"Neville!" she giggled along with him.

"I'll thank you to refrain from treating a lady in this manner."

"Stop!" she laughed. "Can I have it back? I can see my nipples in the corner of my eye and I don't like it."

"Let them be free."

She crossed her arms and smirked. "I will if you wear that to dinner."

He thought a moment. "Does it have to be over the clothes?"

"Neville! Give me my bra!" she giggled.

He slipped the bra off her shoulders and she grabbed it from him.

"I'm going to your loo," she said. "I'll be back. With covered nipples."

He laughed as she shut the door, then he relaxed into his bed. Somehow, this was the most loved he had felt in a long time, despite his parents' incapacitation and Lenore's refusal to admit her love. It was okay. He knew his parents loved him and he knew Lenore loved him, too, even if she didn't want to say it.


	37. Chapter 37: Hot, Heavy and Shattered

**This is a long ass chapter, that's why it took so long lmao. Lenore and Neville being cute and smutty and Dean and Margaux reveal their emotions in bed! (That's called clickbait.) Leave a review, thanks love you all you're beautiful never forget it. Thanks to ReavenclawReader, LooseFur, XxXBeautifulXxXDreamerXxX, and the guests for reviews!**

 **.**

 **Lenore's POV**

"Are you nervous?"

Odette smoothed down her green Slytherin-colored dress that she wore to games. "Lenore!" she whimpered. "Don't make me nervous!"

"I'm not! I'm just asking!"

Odette shook out her curls as the pair walked to the Gryffindor Tower for the annual Gryffindor-Slytherin pregame party. It was a time for friendly rivals to talk a little smack and get a little drunk before the rivalry game. Fist fights would not be tolerated, nor would harsh verbal abuse. This was a time for friendly banter among the more moderate Gryffindors and Slytherins.

"I'm a little nervous," she admitted. "I've never been on a blind date. All my dates have asked me out. I've never asked a boy out. But that's kind of what we did."

"He's excited to talk with you!" Lenore assured her. "Honestly, Odette, he was flabbergasted when I even suggested you were interested. He's a super nice guy. You date some tossers. He's not one of them."

Odette nodded. "Okay. I trust you. Help me not be awkward. I feel like I'm going to be awkward. God, when I get nervous I talk so fast. Slow me down."

"You also start speaking Spanish, so I'll stop that, too."

She finally let out a smile. "Thank you."

A Gryffindor boy stood outside, letting partygoers in with the password. The two Slytherin girls stepped through the portrait hole and Lenore immediately caught sight of Neville and Terry standing exactly where she told them to. She beamed and grabbed Odette's hand as they wafted through the crowd.

"Neville!" she called.

Neville gave her a bright smile and a wave and Lenore noticed how terrified Terry looked the moment he caught sight of Odette. She glanced back at Odette, who looked equally scared.

Lenore gave Neville a quick hug, then she pushed Terry to Odette.

"Hi," he smiled nervously. "I'm Terry Boot."

"Odette Trujillo," she returned the grin and gave him a small hug.

The hug seemed to calm Terry's nerves, because his shoulders relaxed. "You… you're… You look really beautiful."

Odette glanced down at herself and blushed. "Really? Thanks! You do, too!"

Lenore examined Terry. He really did look nice today. Navy trousers, a light blue button down, his usual thick-rimmed brown glasses and bright smile.

"Thanks!"

Silence fell over the group and Lenore clapped her hands together. "So! Who's drinking?"

"I need one!" Odette said. "Just to get the nerves out."

Terry smiled. "That's a good idea."

The four headed over to the drink table. Odette sloshed some fruit juice in rum, Terry took a glass of firewhisky, and Neville stuck with his usual bottle of crap beer. Lenore, however, filled her cup with water.

Neville pointed to her cup. "You're not drinking?"

She shook her head. "I will later. I'm just not in the mood right now. I have to be in a specific mood."

"Unlike Seamus," cut in Terry.

Lenore grinned. "Where is he anyway?"

"With Dean, I'd guess," said Terry. "You told him he wasn't invited."

Odette giggled. "Did you?"

"Yeah! He's an attention hog. I love him, but he is."

Even Neville nodded. "He's fine with Dean."

Lenore smiled and sat down on the couch. Neville sat next to her and she leaned up against his arm as Terry and Odette sat on the coffee table in front of them.

"So," Lenore smiled. "I've never been on a double date before. So far it's more awkward than a normal date."

Odette giggled as Terry grinned and asked, "Even a date with Longbottom?"

Neville feigned offense while Lenore laughed. "It's weird because it's like noon," Lenore continued. "That's all. We just need to get chatting."

"Alright," Terry smiled to Odette. "So, tell me about yourself."

Odette looked surprised. "What about me?"

"Anything."

"Well… Lenore and I are roommates, obviously. I'm mostly friends with Ravenclaws, I'd say. My best friend is Padma Patil, the one in Ravenclaw. But Lenore is one of my best friends, too. Iiiiiii'm Cuban. My dad fled with his parents to the United States then here. My mum was extradited to the U.K. So they were both born there, but I was born here. Ummm… I can speak, write, and read Spanish. I'm halfblood, because I have a great grandfather, on both sides actually, who wasn't magical. But my parents are both magical. I have a younger brother, Mateo. He's a fourth year Hufflepuff. I also have an older sister, Nieves. She's twenty and she was a Hufflepuff, too."

"You're the only Slytherin?"

She nodded. "Yep. My parents went to Hogwarts, too. My dad was Hufflepuff and my mum was Ravenclaw."

"Wow," he said. "How did your parents take the news?"

"They were still proud," she smiled. "Really, we're not all evil."

"I know," he grinned. "What makes you different from your brother and sister?"

"I think I'm more clever, honestly. That sounds bad, but… I'm just a quick thinker. I'm not hardworking or patient. Also, I'm willing to bend the rules. They have to do things by the book, by the specific instructions. What about you? Tell me about you."

"Well… I'm a Ravenclaw. I have three older brothers."

"Three?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah," he smiled. "All T names, too, it's terrible. Thomas, Tyson, Trevon, Terence."

"Oh my god, doesn't your mother get tongue-tied?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "She combines our names a lot. I'm 'Trerence.' Then there's 'Thomson.' Then our favorite, 'Tyvon.'"

The three students laughed as Terry looked pleased with himself for amusing Odette.

"How old are they?"

"Trevon just graduated last year, he's 18. Tyson is 20 and Thomas is 22."

"Wow," Odette said. "So you grew up close together."

"I was always getting punched on, yes," he grinned.

She giggled. "Were you the baby?"

"Oh, yeah!" he nodded. "I still am. I bet you and your sister babied Mateo."

"He was our little baby doll, yes."

Terry smiled. "I was the little punching bag."

"Really?"

"I was the human shield," he grinned. "They were a little more reluctant to hit me because Mum would come after them for mistreating her baby, so if two of them got into a fight, they're toss me in the middle."

Odette laughed. "What do your brothers do now?"

"Thomas is a scientist in Romania. He actually works with Ron Weasley's brother, studying dragons. Tyson works in the Goblin Liaison office in the Ministry and Trevon just started as a salesman at a Quality Quidditch Supplies. What does your sister do?"

"She's a bartender at… I'm not entirely sure. Some nightclub in Diagon Alley. That cool one that just opened up last year. She's the head bartender, so she manages all the hires and purchases."

"That's cool!" Terry said. "Merlin, a lot more interesting than the Goblin Liaison office."

"Nah, that's cool, too. What about your parents?"

"Mum writes books from home. She's the author of—"

Odette grabbed his arm, which made him gulp. "Is your mum Anya Boot?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh my god! I love her! I read _Swimming in Emeralds_."

"Did you?" he beamed. "Aww, she loves that one. That's her favorite one she's written. I haven't read it."

"You should!" she said. "I loved it. It's very feminist."

"Well, Mum is very feminist. Dad, too. They're very into politics. My dad was the campaign chairman to get Hasan Ibrahim elected Minister for Magic, but he obviously didn't win. He works with muggles a lot, actually, doing political PR."

"Are you into politics?"

He shrugged. "I mean, I'm not as into it as they are, but I love hearing about it. I'm politically engaged, but I don't get as riled up as them. I can generally see both sides of an issue, but they tend to only see one. What about you?"

"Exactly the same," she grinned.

Lenore watched them prattle on and on for a while, her and Neville only speaking when they felt their input would be highly valued. Lenore curled under Neville's arm and watched as Terry and Odette really hit it off. They laughed and joked together and Lenore enjoyed watching them. Odette and Terry were both shy, quiet people, but they seemed to be pretty comfortable around each other. After nearly an hour of the pregame party whirling around them, Lenore stood up off the couch to refill her water. Neville excused himself and left Odette and Terry alone, but they didn't seem to mind too much. Terry looked a bit nervous, but he quickly got over his fear as he laughed at Odette's story.

Lenore poured more water into her cup as Neville grinned. "I think they actually like each other."

"I know!" she practically swooned. "God, aren't they cute?"

"I really like them together. Terry's very chatty with her, I thought he'd be nervous."

"He's a little nervous," Lenore grinned. "But he's doing really well. We better not leave them alone too long, he could get nervous."

She started back to the couch, but Neville plucked her hand in his. "Wait."

She turned around. "What?"

His eyes scanned her a moment, then he kissed her, smack in the middle of the common room, around all these loud partygoers. He leaned back and she laughed. "What was that for?"

"Because," he grinned.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, careful not to spill her drink down his back. "You want my attention?"

He laughed. "No!"

She leaned in and kissed his lips sweetly, then he moved to her jaw, near her ear, where he whispered, "But actually, I have something to show you in my room."

She smiled as he kissed her neck. She didn't even care that he was doing it in front of all these people. It was a party, who cares.

"Is it you trying to snog me?"

"No!" He laughed as he leaned back. "I honestly want to show you something."

She squinted. "What?"

"Come see."

"You're a prat," she grinned. "Fine."

She took his hand and snuck them through the crowd and up to his dormitory. As he unlocked his bedroom door, she placed her hands on his hips. They slipped inside and he relocked the door, then cupped her face and kissed her roughly.

"You arse!" she giggled as she leaned back. "You do just want a snog!"

"No!" he smiled, before kissing her again. "Honestly."

He let go of her and opened up the trunk at the end of his bed. He rooted around, then came back with a textbook. Upon closer inspection, Lenore noticed it was his Herbology textbook. He yanked a piece of loose parchment out and handed it to Lenore. She studied the heading on the paper. It was his latest herbology test. Next to it was a huge "O," the highest grade possible. She glanced up at Neville.

"Your test?"

He nodded.

She examined it again. "What am I missing? Don't you always get Os?"

"No, flip it over. See what she wrote."

Lenore obeyed and turned the page. Down at the bottom, Professor Sprout had written about a paragraph in red ink. Lenore squinted as she read, _Brilliant job, Longbottom. You didn't miss a single question. If you want, I'd like to let you have an open lab in the greenhouses. Talk to me._

She glanced back up at him. "What does that mean?"

"I talked to her and she gave me the password to the greenhouses. I can go in there any night I want between seven to ten and she even offered to teach me how to write and present a research paper."

"Neville!" Lenore gasped. "Oh my god! Look at you!"

He smiled shyly and her heart panged. He was proud of himself. He was actually proud of himself. And he wanted her to be proud of him. Lenore practically jumped into his arms and he held her tight against his body.

"Nev!" she beamed. "I'm so proud of you!"

He was holding her so securely and her forearms ran the length of his back. "Thanks!"

"You're so smart," she said as her fingers dug into his back. "Merlin, what else did she say?"

"S-she said I was one of the b-brightest students she ever taught. T-that was my third 100 percent on a test in a row."

"Neville!"

She stood on her tiptoes and moved her hand up to the back of his head, then pulled his head down and kissed him urgently. He returned her kisses, but could not stop himself from smiling so Lenore eventually laughed and leaned back to look into his eyes. She fell back on her flat feet. "You're brilliant."

"Thanks," he smiled again. "I'm excited. Do… do you want to come in there with me next week?"

"Yes! Of course. Aww, you can tell me everything you're doing."

Neville grinned and squeezed her. "She's going to help me figure out something to study and write about."

"For what?"

"Well, if it's good, it can be published in herbology magazines. Or submitted to journals or proper scientists."

She gasped. "Oh my god! Do that!"

"I'll try," he smiled.

"I'll even edit for you if you want."

He planted a kiss on her lips. "Thank you! Because you know I can't spell."

She giggled and kissed him again. As she leaned back, she watched his face. She had never seen him this blatantly proud of himself. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Neville, you're going to do great things, you know that?"

He pulled her firmly against his body. "Y-you think so?"

"You already have, hun."

He grinned and she flattened her hands on the sides of his neck. "Have you told your grandma?"

His smile fell and he shrugged. "No, not yet."

She blinked in shock. Surely he should have told Augusta. "Are you not going to?"

"I don't know. Probably. I'm not sure she'll… care."

"Tell her! She cares."

Neville nodded and whispered, "Okay."

Lenore was quiet, until she said, "Well… I care."

His frown transformed back into a grin. "I know you do. That's why I was so excited to tell you."

"Nev," she beamed as she cupped his face. "I'm so proud of you! How are you doing in other subjects?"

"A-about the same in all of them. Still rubbish in Potions, except when I cheat off you."

She giggled.

He kissed her forehead and smiled. "But I'm better at Defense. It has to be my new wand. I can't think of anything else."

"More confidence, maybe?"

"Mmm, I don't know about that."

Her hands lightly massaged his neck. "Maybe Snape scares the pants off you and you instinctively get defensive around him?"

Neville laughed. "Yeah, that's it."

A loud croaking noise sounded off Neville's dresser and interrupted their laughs. Lenore turned around and saw his toad, Trevor, hopping so high he slammed himself against his ceiling while he ribbit-ed. Neville let go of her. "Hang on."

He opened the lid of the glass container and pulled the toad out of his cage. "Shhh," he whispered as he stroked Trevor's back. "What do you want?"

Trevor squawked his complaints as Neville sat down on his bed and placed the toad on his lap between his stomach and his hands. Lenore sat down next to him. "What does he want?"

"Attention."

"Oh, well, like father like son."

Neville beamed up at her. "Hey!"

She giggled as the toad croaked over and over. Neville held him up. "That's him saying 'hey!'"

"Uh huh, I'm sure."

"He says, 'Why is sister Len so grossed out by me?'"

"Sister?" she shouted between laughs. "You're an idiot, that makes you my dad!"

"Dad or daddy?"

Lenore punched him as he blushed red. "Stop!" She fell over laughing while the toad croaked along with her, then hid her face in his sheets and giggled.

"I didn't mean 'sister,'" Neville laughed. "You can be his… mum."

Lenore flipped over. "No thanks."

Neville pouted and held the toad up near his cheek in an attempt to get her sympathy. "You don't want to be his mum?"

"Absolutely not."

He smiled, but forced his fake pout again. "Come on, Len, every toad needs two parents."

"I think you're doing just fine as a single dad."

"Not when he's croaking like this," he sighed. "He's lonely."

"Get him a wife. Then he can be a daddy."

"No!" he laughed. "I'm not subjecting a female toad to his ugliness."

"He is ugly," Lenore said as she looked at him. "Like, one of the worst looking toads I've ever seen."

Neville covered Trevor's imaginary ears. "Don't talk to our son like that."

"He's not my son!" she laughed.

Neville held him out to Lenore and she sat up immediately. "Don't put him near me."

She tried scooting back, but she wasn't fast enough. Neville placed the toad directly on her left shoulder and he squawked in her ear.

"Neville!" she shouted. "Neville, please!"

She felt the slimy creature touch her bare skin and she was immediately transported back to her childhood. She wanted to burst into tears as she screamed.

"Neville! Neville, stop!"

He removed Trevor from her shoulder and she whimpered. "I swear to god, if you put him anywhere near me again, I will never speak to you again."

"Lenore!" he laughed. "I'm sorry!"

She held out her hands. "He can go in my hands but don't put him anywhere else. I will cry."

He placed the toad in her hands and she gagged. "He's so slimy."

"Don't be mean, he has feelings."

Trevor sat in her hands calmly, not moving, but she still occasionally gagged. "I'm sorry, little buddy," she whispered to the toad. "You're just so weird."

"There's nothing wrong with weird," Neville said. "He's just being himself."

"He's gigantic," Lenore said. "That's what throws me. He's like a chihuahua puppy. Oh my god, Neville, he's looking at me. Neville, take him, please!"

He did not move and Lenore squealed and closed her eyes. "Neville!" she begged. "Neville, please, I don't like him looking at me!"

Neville took Trevor out of her hands and laughed. "You're such a wimp."

Lenore wiped her hands on his sheets. "No, I don't like it! Sorry. I am a wimp. But he scares me."

Neville stroked Trevor's back and held the toad steady. "He's not going to hurt you."

"I know," she whined. "My grandparents live out in the countryside and my sister used to pick up random bugs or animals and thrust them near my face. She picked up frogs and crawdads and butterflies and ladybugs. God, I hate them all. It was scarring."

"You're emotionally scarred?"

"Yes!" she said. "She put a frog down my shirt one time and I cried. I literally bawled for ten minutes."

Neville laughed, but she kneed the edge of his thigh.

"When you put him on my shoulder, it reminded me of that. I don't even let my owl on my shoulder most of the time."

"Sorry," he smiled. "I won't do it again, I promise."

Lenore hopped off the bed and washed her hands in his sink with a huge dollop of soap. "Nev," she called from the bathroom, "why do you like him?"

Neville stroked the toad. "Because…" he said as she plopped down next to him. "Because… I don't know. I've had him since I was seven. My grandpa gave him to me before he died. I-I just… like knowing my grandpa gave me something."

She placed her hand on his cheek and pouted. "That's sweet."

Neville leaned in to kiss her, but she back away. "No," she shook her head. "Please not with him between us. He looks mad."

Neville started to stand to put Trevor back in his cage, but Lenore halted him. "Wait! Let me try something! Put him on the bed."

He placed the quieted-down Trevor on his sheets, then Lenore unclasped her bracelet. She joined the two ends together, then slipped it over Trevor's head. It fit perfectly around his neck. "Okay, he's cuter now."

Neville glanced up at her and laughed as she giggled. Trevor hopped once, seemingly content with his new necklace, which made Lenore laugh even harder.

"You're so goofy!" he laughed wildly.

"Tell me he doesn't look better!"

"He does look more stylish."

She squealed. "Yeah he does! You need to make him little outfits."

"Why would I ever do that?"

Lenore stroked Trevor's back once. "Because he likes this. He feels confident and good. Look at him, he's standing proud with his little necklace."

"Sure," Neville beamed. "You make him a little outfit and I'll put it on him."

"I don't know how, but I'll figure it out."

He smiled up at her and her heart warmed. He was being so sweet, even though he was clearly a little disappointed she was uncomfortable with Trevor.

"Okay," she grinned. "I need my bracelet back."

He slipped the jewelry off the toad and handed it to her. He stood up and gently placed Trevor back in his glass enclosure and slid the lid shut

He reached his hands out for Lenore and he never saw her recoil so quickly. "No!" she squealed. "Wash your hands!"

He rolled his eyes, which made her laugh, then he washed his hands in the sink. "More soap!" she called to him.

She joined him in the bathroom, jamming her hands against his under the sink to steal some of his excess soap. "I touched him, too, after I washed my hands."

"He's not dirty," Neville said.

Lenore raised her brow and he smiled. "Okay, well, he is an animal."

Neville flicked his wrists dry, then wiped his hands on Lenore's jumper.

"Stop!" she yelled between laughs. "Neville!"

She ran her wet hands down the front of his jumper, then he reached out and cupped her face in his wet hands. He kissed her, wet and frantic, as she let go of him and turned off the faucet. She smiled on his lips. "Can't waste water."

He chuckled and she pulled him down closer to her, still kissing him sweetly. After a while of french-kissing in the bathroom, she murmured, "We should be getting back to our double date."

Still, Neville kissed her. He smiled briefly, then whispered, "Sit on the counter."

She laughed but soon obeyed and rested her bum on the counter as Neville stepped between her legs, holding her head steady. She slid her arms around his neck, her fingers weaving through his hair as she returned his sweet kisses.

"Merlin," he exhaled. "I can't wait for tonight."

"Why, what's tonight?"

She was clearly joking, so he beamed. "You know."

"You want a good snog?" she giggled.

"I want you."

She gasped, which only made him kiss her harder. She returned his quickened pace and wrapped her legs around his back, her thighs on his hips and her calves on his bum. He groaned against her lips and she gripped his hair tighter. Her forearms rested against the back of his head as they fell into each other's movements. Give and take, that's what this was, just a playful game of flirting before tonight's big event. Merlin, she was so excited. Part of her wanted to skip the game right now and just stay here and snog Neville. A huge part of her actually. If she were given an ultimatum, kiss Neville or watch quidditch, she would pick Neville every time, even during rivalry games like today. But she knew she had to return to Odette and Terry and make sure they were getting along.

"Okay, Nev," she whimpered, "really. Let's go back downstairs. I don't want Odette to leave without me."

Neville nodded and leaned away. She grabbed his face for one last kiss, then let go of him.

"Merlin," she sighed. "I'll be thinking about that all during the game, though."

He blushed. "M-me, too."

She giggled and slid off the counter. "Okay, let's go downstairs. Neville, that was really nice."

"W-what was?"

She ran her hands down his cheeks. "How sweet you are to me. How you told me to sit down. Is it bad I kind of hope Gryffindor wins?"

He looked shocked. "S-so I can dominate you?"

She laughed. "Yeah."

The door to the bedroom burst open and Lenore thanked the heavens she was not still straddling Neville on the sink. Dean stood in the dormitory, his hands in his hair and his eyes wild.

"Do you have tape?" Dean said franticly. "No, wait, okay, god, do you know a spell to fix broken glass?"

"What happened?" Lenore asked as she entered the bedroom.

"Ginny," Dean said frantically. "She threw Margaux's globe across the room."

Lenore's mouth fell open.

"The one you made for her?" Neville gasped.

Dean nodded and ran his hands through his hair. "Oh fuck, I'm actually about to cry."

"Dean!" Lenore said as she hopped closer to him. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'll fix it, don't worry. Is she in her room?"

Dean nodded. "I can't get up there. She came downstairs in tears and asked me if I knew how to fix it. Now she's back up there and I can't get to her and I have to leave soon, oh god. _Reparo_ won't work. The globe is too intricate. It's got layers, _reparo_ won't fix the layers. Oh fuck, do either of you know what to use?"

" _Emanturo_ ," Neville said quickly. " _Emanturo_ is stronger."

Dean glanced at Lenore. "Is that right?"

"I have no idea," she said. "I'll try it. Or get Margaux to try it."

Dean groaned into his hands.

Lenore grabbed her coat. "I'm going over there. It'll all be okay, Dean. Don't be nervous about the game either, you're going to do great. You've got yourself all worked up. I've got it handled, mate."

After patting Dean on the back, Neville followed Lenore down the stairs and to the edge of the girls staircase. "I'll be right back," she said, before kissing his cheek. "Go check on Odette and Terry."

Neville nodded and watched Lenore pace up the staircase until she was out of sight.

 **.**

 **Margaux's POV, thirty minutes earlier**

Margaux swiped on her prettiest red lipstick to prepare for the Gryffindor game. She pulled on a gold pair of wide-legged, high-waisted trousers and tucked her maroon blouse into her waist. Her short blonde hair was straight and curved nicely at her shoulders. She felt very pretty today, actually. She knew she's be wearing a giant coat outside in the freezing cold, but for now, she was confident.

"Mar, are you coming?" asked her roommate Verona Antar.

"I'll meet you downstairs!" Margaux called from the bathroom.

"Alright, see you!" shouted Kadence Liu. "Helaine is already downstairs with Dagwood."

"Hey, Kade!" Margaux said, still primping herself in the mirror. "Are you going to the game with Andi or with us?"

"Andi's sitting with us. Ed, too!"

"Okay! See you downstairs!"

Margaux sighed. Everyone was going to be with their dates. Verona with Ed, Kade with Andi, and Helaine with Dagwood. At least she would have Derek with her. Luna elected to sit with Neville, but they might join Margaux. Whatever, it was fine. As long as Ginny didn't try to sit by her and talk to her. Ginny had been mysteriously quiet lately. She had not been paying much attention to Margaux, Derek or Luna lately. Instead, she focused her attention on her roommates. Helaine, however, saw through her act and refused to talk to Ginny. Verona and Kadence attempted to be impartial, but Margaux knew they didn't want Ginny around either. They had been using their partners as an excuse to get away from Ginny. But that also meant Margaux didn't get to spend much time with them either.

Margaux emerged from the bathroom to see Ginny standing at the edge of Margaux's bed, staring at a piece of parchment on her trunk. She pointed to the paper. "What's that?"

"Oh," Margaux blinked. "It's my Transfiguration test."

Ginny grabbed the paper off Margaux's trunk. "You made an O!"

"Yeah," she nodded nervously. Where was Ginny going with this? And why the hell was she suddenly deciding to talk to Margaux?

"You bitch! I made D!"

Margaux watched Ginny. "Why am I a bitch for your failing grade?"

Ginny clutched the parchment tighter in her hands. She glared up at Margaux. "How are things going with Dean?"

Margaux was so startled she stepped back toward her dresser. "Things aren't going with Dean. What?"

Ginny laughed. "Ha! Please! I see you with him."

"I'm not with him."

Her heart beat a million times a minute. Ginny was about to scream at her, she knew it.

"Yeah right!" she rolled her eyes. "What have you done with him so far?"

"Nothing!" she shouted. "Ginny! We're friends!"

"You've snogged him," she said. She squinted her eyes. "You've snogged him recently, I can tell. Look at you Mar, you little whore. I know you snog everybody."

"Shut the fuck up, Ginny, I haven't snogged Dean. And what's it your business if I have?"

This situation was escalating so far. Margaux barely had time to think before she spoke.

"It is my business if you were with him while I was dating him!"

"I wasn't! Stop being paranoid!"

"Oh, I'm paranoid now? What about you?"

"How am I paranoid?"

Ginny laughed loudly and stepped closed to Margaux. "You always get everything you want, don't you, Mar? Hmm?"

Ginny picked up the astronomy globe from Margaux's dresser. The globe Dean had made for Margaux's birthday cradled in her palms.

"What are you doing?" Margaux screamed.

Ginny held the globe over her head. "Well, you don't get this!"

Margaux lunged for her, but it was too late.

"GINNY!"

The globe hit to the ground with a thunderous shatter and Margaux watched as her beautiful present, which had been so useful in her astronomy class, spread out over the stone tiles into a sea of shards.

Margaux flew the the floor and gathered up the broken fragments of glass until she realized they were cutting her palms.

"Oh!" Ginny said. "God, sorry!"

But she wasn't sorry and Margaux knew it. Tears blooded Margaux's eyes which made her even angrier. She wanted to punch Ginny, but she couldn't. All she could focus on was this globe, shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

The door slammed and Ginny was gone.

Margaux stared down at the glass. Her forearms were bleeding from trying to scrape up the glass, so she turned her attention to herself. She examined her arms for any glass, found none, and healed her cuts. Then she turned her eyes back to the floor and grabbed her wand.

" _Reparo_."

Nothing happened. She tried again.

" _Reparo_."

The spell wasn't strong enough. She searched her brain.

" _Restituere._ "

Again, nothing moved. She tried again and again, then even tried _medicus_ but the globe wouldn't budge. It had been destroyed forever. All of Dean's hard work, gone forever. Months and months of painting and research and construction smashed by a jealous, abusive ex girlfriend. Her heart pounded against her throat and tears flooded her eyes.

It couldn't be irreparable. Something had to be able to fix it. Maybe Dean would know, since he was a year older. She had to tell him about this. She needed him to get Ginny under control, because she couldn't do it herself. She needed to find someone to help her and she decided on Lenore. She trusted her sister the most. Margaux bounded down the steps, not even bothering to lock the dormitory door, in search of her sister. She scanned the common room and noticed Odette and Terry, who Lenore was supposed to be on a double date with.

"Odette!" Margaux called.

The girl looked up from her cup and smiled warmly. "Hi, Margaux! How are you?"

"Hi! Do you know where Lenore is?"

Odette looked around, as did Terry. "No," she replied. "She's supposed to be with us, but…"

"Neville's missing, too," Terry pointed out.

Margaux groaned. She needed her sister and she was off snogging some boy.

"What do you need?" Odette asked. "Are you okay?"

She bit her lip and decided to ask, "Have you seen Dean?"

Odette shook her head and glanced at Terry, who pointed to the fireplace across the room. "Over there, mate."

Margaux thanked them and scurried over to Dean. He was busy talking to Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner. She grabbed his arm with two hands and clearly startled him. His eyes widened as he said, "Hey, Mar!"

He scanned her face as she attempted to find her words. "Are you okay?"

"Dean, can I talk to you?"

Dean glanced at Anthony and Michael, said goodbye, then followed Margaux to an emptier part of the common room.

"What's wrong?" he asked frantically, his eyes pouring over her face. "Have you been crying?"

"Ginny smashed the globe."

He froze. "The globe? The globe I gave you?"

She pouted. "It's in a thousand pieces on our dorm floor."

Dean began audibly gasping for air. He ran his hands through his hair. "She didn't. Mar, please tell me you're joking."

She bit her cheeks and tried to control her tears as she whispered, "I'm not."

Dean buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Why! Why did she do that?"

"S-she saw my grade on a test a-and we got into a fight a-and she said, 'You always get everything you want, don't you?' Th-then she picked the globe up and s-smashed it."

"Mar," he whimpered. He took her into his arms as she cried. His body heat surrounded her as tears poured down her cheeks. "Mar, we'll fix it. It can be fixed. I'm so sorry. She's evil."

"I can't fix it," she said. "I've tried everything. I've tried three spells, all the ones I know. I need help."

"Which ones have you tried?"

" _Reparo_ , _restituere_ and _medicus_."

Dean's eyes flickered wildly as he searched his brain. "I have no idea. None at all. M-mar, let me help you. I'll go and check my spell book. You keep trying to fix it. Please Mar, keep trying. I-I'll find a girl to g-go up there and help you. W-where's Lenore?"

"Off with Neville."

Dean let go of Margaux. "She's in our dorm. Almost guaranteed. I'll go get her. You go make sure none of your roommates step in the glass and try to sweep it together. Try _nonperdere_. Fuck, I don't think that'll work, but try. I'll get Lenore."

Margaux nodded. "Okay."

He scurried up the boys staircase and Margaux ran to her room. She gathered the glass into a pile, then collapsed on the ground. She tried Dean's suggestion of _nonperdere_ , but it also did not work. She realized she should have followed Dean to his dorm, because what if Lenore wasn't in there? She would have to learn the spell really fast and run back up here. She stared to stand up to go to his dormitory, but she heard heard the bedroom door crack open and her sister appeared in the doorway, her eyes angry and her jaw clenched.

Margauc relaxed back on the ground. "Hi, Lenny."

Lenore sat down on the floor with Margaux, carefully avoiding broken glass. "What happened?"

Margaux shook her head, her voice cracking. "Ginny said I got a good grade on my test, we got into a fight, she grabbed the globe he made me and threw it on the ground. Then she ran out and here I am."

Lenore bit her cheek and examined the situation. " _Reparo_ doesn't work?"

Margaux shook her head. "I've tried _reparo_ , _restituere_ and _medicus_. None of them can get the inner globe inside the outer globe."

"Neville said to try _emanturo._ "

Margaux nodded sadly. "Okay."

"And try to just do the inner portion first. I don't know if that's possible. Rebuild it one piece at a time."

Margaux nodded as light tears stung her eyes. She aimed her wand at the globe and thought carefully about the inner globe.

" _Emanturo_ ," she said with force.

The pieces did not budge. Then, they began wiggling. Glass slid across the floor as Margaux watched carefully. She gasped as the pieces took a vague shape of a sphere. At once, the inner globe mended together perfectly. Tears poured from her eyes as Lenore asked, "Did that work? Is it right?"

Margaux nodded.

"Try the outside part," Lenore urged her.

Margaux said the spell again and as glass wiggled on the floor, she began crying a little harder.

"Mar, where is Ginny? I will murder her."

"She's gone to the game," Margaux said. "Don't murder her."

"I will punch her, if that's what you want. Seriously, Mar."

Lenore fell quiet for a moment and Margaux glanced up at her sister. Lenore had tears in her eyes. Lenore was crying. Margaux set the globe down carefully and scooted into her sister's arms.

"Don't let her get away with this," Lenore said. "I'm serious, she needs to pay. This is the most disgusting, bitchy, jealous thing I've ever seen someone do. Nobody deserves this, much less you. Punch her next time."

"I wanted to," Margaux said, "but I was so scared about the globe. I got distracted."

Lenore glanced at Ginny's side of the room. "What does she have that we can destroy?"

"No, it's—"

Lenore stood up and headed to Ginny's bed. She began rummaging through Ginny's dresser. "I'll cut a hole in every goddamn one of these blouses," she said. "I'll vanish her mattress. I'll write a letter to her mother. God, Mar, you need to punch her. Beat her snarky little fuckface in."

Margaux shook her head. "It's not worth it. She'll get over it eventually."

"You need to tell Dean to tell her to stop. Or you need to make out with Dean in front of Ginny. Make that bitch jealous."

Margaux's face warmed. "I-I'll ask him if he can do anything."

"It's not your fault, Mar," Lenore said as she slammed Ginny's dresser drawer closed. "None of this is your fault. This is Ginny and Dean's problem, not yours."

"I know," she whispered. "I just… It's hard. Knowing she hates me."

"Do your roommates stick up for you?"

Margaux nodded. "Yeah. They're on my side, especially Helaine. They weren't here when this happened though. It's when Ginny and I are alone that she goes after me."

Lenore shook her head. "Coward."

Margaux sighed as Lenore sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. The sisters were silent for a long time, Margaux's mind spinning, until she blurted out, "I fancy Dean."

Lenore shifted her gaze to her sister. "Do you really?"

She nodded. "And I know he fancies me."

"He does," Lenore said. "How do you know?"

Margaux's heart pounded against her chest. "How do _you_ know?"

"He… he told me," she admitted. "A while ago. And I found out before. Remember when we went speed dating last Valentine's Day?"

"You knew back then?"

Lenore nodded. "Neville let it slip."

Margaux felt genuine hurt. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Mar, I'm really sorry. He asked me not to tell and I didn't want to make things weirder between you two. I thought he needed to tell you himself. How do you know he fancies you?"

"Neville told me, too."

Surprise swept over Lenore's face, but she laughed. "He really can't keep secrets. When did you and Neville talk about this?"

"We had a lovely little talk after my birthday," she said. "I intimidated him and he gave me information."

"Mar!" Lenore giggled. "What did he tell you?"

"You know Dean worked on the globe for months? Literally, months. Since March.

"What did you do to him to get him to tell you all this?"

She grinned. "I just talked loud and fast. And offered him information on you in return."

"Margaux!" she gasped. "What did you say?"

"I told him about how we used to sword fight in the garage—"

Lenore giggled.

"—about how you braved the attic to fetch his birthday present—"

"No!" she butted in. "Oh god, embarrass me."

"I didn't tell him anything embarrassing! Well, except I did tell the story of when you were five and you peed all over Santa's lap."

"Margaux!"

"I'm kidding!" she giggled wildly. "I'm kidding, Len. Although, that's not the most embarrassing thing you've done."

Lenore squeezed her sister's neck between her elbow and Margaux squealed between laughs. "Want to hear what Neville said about you?"

"Yes!" she said.

"Well then, what did Dean tell you about me?"

Lenore grinned. "Okay. He said he never wanted to date Ginny in the first place, he was just trying to get over you. But he couldn't. He never fancied Ginny, not really. He was attracted to her, but never fancied her. He's fancied you this whole time. Is any of this helpful? I feel like Neville would know more than I do."

"I didn't know he never fancied Ginny," she exhaled. "Never? Not even a little bit?"

Lenore shook her head. "Not the way he fancies you."

"Neville said Dean loves me."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Lenore said. "But… he probably does. I don't know. Can he love you? You've never dated."

"You can love someone and not be dating them."

"Can you, though?"

Margaux rolled her eyes. "Just bloody tell Neville you love him."

Lenore gasped. "No! I don't love him like that. No, Mar, did you tell him I do?"

She lied and shook her head. "Of course not. But you do love him."

"No. Shhh."

"Can you see yourself marrying Neville in the far future?"

Lenore hesitated for a long time. "I mean… in the distant future, after we've matured and if that's what we want… Yeah. I'd marry him."

"Then you love him."

Lenore looked like she had been punched. She blinked a few times, then shook her head. "Okay. Whatever. Maybe. I'm not telling him, though."

Margaux nodded. "That's okay. But this guy really cares about you."

"I know," she whispered. "He told me he's in love with me."

Margaux gasped. "What did you say?"

"I said…" She buried her face in her hands. "I basically said a long version of, 'Thanks, I hope I do, too sometime.'"

"Len," Margaux giggled, before falling back to seriousness. "You are so cold. You need to figure out how you feel."

"It took you a while to figure out how you felt about Dean, didn't it!" she argued.

She blushed. "Yes, but—"

"Don't rag on me, then! I tell Neville everything but love. I say 'adore,' 'admire,' 'really like'—"

"All the best synonyms for love, without actually saying it."

Lenore squinted. "I've never said it before, okay? I don't know if what I'm feeling is love."

"I've said it three times," Margaux said. "It really is not a big deal."

"So if tomorrow Dean said he loves you, what would you say back?"

"'I love you, too.'"

Lenore gasped. "Do you love him?"

"I really fancy him," she said. "I liked him enough to use all those synonyms for love. So, yes, I would say 'I love you' if he said it first."

Lenore frowned. "I wouldn't."

"Well, you have issues."

Lenore glared at her, then, after a beat, began giggling. "You're a butthole."

"You're the whole butt," Margaux smiled.

Lenore giggled and hugged her sister's head against her chest. "Love you, Mar."

"I love you, Len."

"I love you, too."

Lenore ran her fingers through her sister's hair and held her tight. Margaux cuddled up to her and sighed. She laid in her sister's arms in silence, not thinking, not moving, simply relaxing from her previous worried fit. After a while, Lenore whispered, "You better go tell Dean you fixed the globe before he leaves."

Margaux pulled back to look at Lenore. "Why?"

She frowned. "He looked about ready to cry. You can't have him starting his first quidditch game on the verge of tears."

Margaux loosened her hold and stood up off the ground. "Where is he?"

Lenore checked the clock on the wall. "Either in his room or the common room, unless he's left already."

"Come on!" Margaux said. She hurried her sister out the dorm. "I need to lock the door."

Margaux bolted down the steps, hugged Lenore goodbye, then craned her neck in search of Dean. She spotted Lenore heading to Neville and Terry, so she ran and cut Lenore off. "Hey! Do any of you know where Dean is?"

Terry pointed to the door. "We just wished him luck not ten seconds ago."

Margaux thanked him and scurried to the entrance. She spotted him and shouted his name. "Dean!"

Margaux gave him a huge wave as he opened the front exit to the Gryffindor tower. He closed the door and turned to her with a worried expression as she ran to him. "Did you fix it?"

Margaux nodded and beamed. "I got it. Don't worry. It looks brand new."

Dean stepped closer to her and her heart raced. "Mar, I'm so sorry she did that. Honestly, I-I… I'm so sorry."

She nodded. "It's okay, Dean. It's not your fault."

He grabbed her hands, which surprised her. "I know I'm just… She's so awful. Consistently awful to you. And it's my fault."

"No," she argued. "It's okay. Just… please help me figure out how to handle her."

"I will," he said desperately. "Mar, I promise I will. I'm so sorry."

His hazel eyes stared into her green ones, filling her with affection and admiration. Dean fancied her, she knew it for some time, and she fancied him. Still, it was not the right time to make a move. She couldn't, however, allow him to begin the quidditch game as a ball of nerves and regret. He deserved a little warmth to start his first ever match. She let go of his hands, pulled him into a hug and buried her face in his chest. "Dean, kick some Slytherin ass."

He laughed and squeezed her tight. "I will."

He laid his head on top of hers as she held him for another moment. As she leaned back, Dean smiled beautifully at her. Her fingers trailed his arms and she grabbed both of his hands. She was obviously flirting with him and she hoped it would encourage him to feel better. She swung his arms back and forth, almost dancing to the music with him.

"Why are we swaying?" he smiled.

She raised their arms in the air, stepped closer, then stepped back. "To cheer you up, you little Debbie Downer."

"I'm fine, Mar!" he laughed. "Honestly. Thank you."

He began swaying with her until they were full-out dancing to this song in the background, his soft hands intertwined with hers and a huge smile on his face. Margaux vaguely recognized the as something her roommate Verona would play, an 80s song, but she had no idea the name. Either way, it really wasn't a bad song. It had a smooth beat and Dean could dance quite well. After a moment, his smile faded. He spun her around and then pulled her in for a quick, but deep hug.

"I've really got to go," he said. "Thank you. You've cheered me up."

Margaux squeezed him back. "Go win us this game."

"I'll try."

Dean beamed as he let go of her. He exited the Gryffindor common room and Margaux went to go find her roommates. Minus Ginny.

 **.**

 **Dean's POV, after the game**

It was a hero's welcome in the common room when the Gryffindor quidditch team finally arrived to the afterparty, freshly worn out from the game. Harry received the most hollers, but Dean got his fair share of the spotlight. He talked with people he'd never met before, trying to be charming and appreciative, but he was a little embarrassed from all the attention. It was just quidditch, it's not like he did anything important. The crowd only grew more frenzied as the celebrations continued and soon other houses began showing up. There were quite a number of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the common room, and even a handful of disheartened Slytherins. The common room was filed to the brim with people and Dean could barely turn around without bumping into somebody or being deafened by music. All he wanted to do was go lay down. It had been a long day.

"Dean!"

Dean turned around and open his arms wide as Margaux flew into him. A huge smile appeared on his face. "Hi! Hi, Mar!"

"Hi!" she beamed as she jammed her face into his neck. "Dean! You were bloody brilliant!"

He held her tight and swayed her body side to side, then exhaled a laugh. "Thanks!"

She leaned back and smiled at him. "You can do anything! Merlin, you can draw, you can cook, you can play quidditch! What can't you do?"

"Plenty," he grinned. "Mar, you're so sweet."

She hugged him again. Merlin, she was getting cozy recently. Her hugs became familiar, although no less special. He wondered why she was hugging him so much these past few weeks. Sure, they had hugged before as friends, but these hugs felt different and he had no idea how. Possibly because he was deprived of her while he was with Ginny. During the three months he was with Ginny, he had hugged Margaux exactly once and laughed and joked with her zero times. The laughing made him feel closer to her than even the hugging, but he loved both.

Her arms loosened their hold and her green eyes twinkled. "Let me get you a drink. What do you want?"

"Honestly, just more water."

She smiled and led him to the drink table. "You're not in the mood to drink?"

He watched as she poured him a goblet of water. "No, I'm worn out. I'm not really in the mood to party. I just kind of want to relax. Thank you."

She handed him the water cup and he took a sip. "I'm not either," she said. "I drank a little before the game, but now I just want to sit somewhere and talk to people."

"Want to talk to me?"

"Of course," she smiled. "Dean! I've missed you! Where do you want to sit?"

His stomach flipped as she stated that she missed him. He had missed her too, desperately. The words tumbled out as he thought of them. "Okay, I know this is odd, but do you want to just go sit in my room?"

She nodded. "Are you tired of the noise, too?"

"Yeah. I'm just ready to lay in bed."

"Then I'll sit in Seamus' bed."

Dean grinned, grabbed both of them a full goblet of water, then led her up the boys staircase. Hopefully no one would be in their room. He guessed they were all downstairs at the afterparty. Sure enough, the door was locked and when he hesitantly opened it, no one was inside. He widened the door and held it open for Margaux. She took a seat on Seamus' bed, across from Dean's bed.

"Come here, Mar," he said as he pointed to Harry's bed next to him. "You can be closer."

"Ooo, that's menacing, isn't it?" She twisted her face into a demonic smile and made her voice raspy. "'Come here, Mar! Come closer!'"

Dean's cheeks burned as he laughed. "No! Okay, fine. Wherever you are comfortable."

Dean climbed onto his bed and Margaux gave him an odd look. "You're just going to sit in bed without showering? After playing quidditch?"

"I showered!" he laughed. "Ew, Mar. I showered in the locker rooms. I'm not completely disgusting."

She grinned and took a seat on Dean's bed, which surprised him. Margaux was in his bed. She leaned up against the baseboard as he sat back on the headboard. Margaux had slept next to him before, last year after a party. He had woken up with her in Neville's bed and panicked until he remembered they didn't do anything. He had imagined it would be awkward when she woke up, but it wasn't. It was quite lovely, actually. She blinked a few times, yawned and smiled at him. They laid there talking for quite a while, about quidditch, about homework, about life, then she gathered herself and returned to her room across the tower. It wasn't weird at all. It was the most natural thing on Earth, to be near her.

"Well, you don't look sweaty and gross," she smiled. "But you never know."

He pulled his covers over his legs and laid down.

"You're actually laying down?"

"Yes," he grinned.

She shook her head and smiled. "Dean, Dean, Dean… not much of a party animal are you?"

He nuzzled his head against his pillow. "No. You don't have to stay, don't think I'm keeping you. If you want to party—"

"I want to sit here with you."

His heart pounded faster than it had when a bludger flew past his ear, narrowly missing his face. "You're such a liar," he smiled. "You're not hurting my feelings if you leave."

"You'll hurt my feelings if you keep trying to kick me out."

He looked up at her. She genuinely appeared to want to stay. Her eyes were wide and even a little upset.

"Sorry," he said. "I want you to stay."

She grinned. "Are you going to fall asleep?"

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not sleepy, just tired."

"So, am I just supposed to sit here and stare down at you?"

He thought a moment. "Grab Harry's pillow and lay down next to me, I'll scoot over."

She laughed and stole the pillow from the bed next to them. She placed it next to Dean's on the narrow twin bed, then he opened up the covers for her as she climbed in. "Thanks," she said. "I don't think you guys have the heater on in here."

"It's on, it just doesn't work well. It has a mind of its own."

Margaux smiled brightly at Dean. He desperately wanted to reach out for her and hold her, but that was absurd, this was meant to be an innocent exchange. Still, he stared into her eyes. They had been through so much together. She was eight months younger than him, both 1980 babies, but they had always felt like the same age. In fact, she almost felt older than him. She was so wise, so mature and they had known each other for so long that he felt like they had grown up together. They even went to the same muggle primary school before Hogwarts for a year, although they did not know each other.

"Hey," he whispered. "Do you remember the first time we talked to each other?"

She grinned. "Of course. In the common room when I was a first year. You were trying to stop Seamus from throwing things into the fire and I was encouraging him."

Dean smiled. "You know we actually talked at primary school once?"

"No we didn't!"

"Yes we did. We were playing outside for recess and you and your little friends kicked a ball into my friend. My friend shouted 'Hey!' and you came over, snatched the ball and said 'Boo hoo!' Then walked away."

She giggled and hid her face in the pillow. "That doesn't count! I wasn't talking to you!"

"Okay, we interacted."

"Okay, fine. More precise language. You know, that's so weird. We would've known each other even if we didn't go to Hogwarts. Did you ever interact with Lenore?"

"Hmmm," Dean thought out loud. "She was in a different classroom. I was in Ms. O'Rourke's, she was in Ms. Ranganathan's. Our classes did some activities together and I remember her being the new kid, but I don't think we ever talked. I remember her friend, Raquel. You know I went to school with her my entire life? She was in the same class as me for three years. We'd switch classes, you know, like mix up the groups."

"I went there for two years, remember," Margaux grinned.

"Yeah! That's right. So you got mixed up. Yeah, Raquel was sweet."

Margaux nodded. "I know. I played out with her and Lenore sometimes. We'd ride bikes around the neighborhood or go down to the pond. It hurt me when she died, too."

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly. "I had no idea she had passed away until Neville told me, after Lenore told him. We were out on the lake and he said Lenore came over to his house to cry."

"Did she?" Margaux gapped.

"I guess so. How are you? Was this summer hard for you?"

Margaux shrugged. "Yeah, kind of. But honestly these past few months have been harder."

"Why, luv?"

Her lips parted. He had just called her 'luv.' His heart pounded against his chest, beating into his brain. He needed to apologize, to normalize this, but his mouth wouldn't operate along with his brain.

At once, she giggled. "Luv, huh?"

He forced himself to speak. "Sorry, I… I was just trying to be comforting. My mum says that when I'm upset. I-I thought you'd… like it. Like, be comforted by it."

Margaux reached out for his hand and squeezed his fingers. Her hands lingered on his just a little longer, which made his stomach dance until she pulled away. "Thanks, weirdo," she grinned. "Anyway, it's just been hard. Dating. All this schoolwork. Losing friends. You know Derek and Luna are my only close friends right now? I lost Ginny."

Dean was quiet for a moment, then he took her hand again. "You're one of my close friends."

She smiled softly up at him. "Really?"

He nodded. "You're one of my best friends, Mar. And Seamus considers you his friend, too. I bet Neville thinks so, too. And your roommates do. And plenty of other people."

"Thanks," she smiled.

Dean hesitated as he watched her eyes. "What makes someone a close friend to you?"

She seemed to be thinking. "They're kind, loyal, we mutually care about each other, we love and learn from each other. That's about it. Also, you're right. You are one of my close friends. I misspoke. I was being dramatic. I was just thinking about how Derek and Luna are the only ones I tell _everything_ to. I don't tell you everything."

"You could start."

She hid her grin as she rubbed her cheek against Harry's pillow and stretched her back, before turning her eyes directly to Dean's soul. "You tell me something, Dean."

"What do you want to know, Mar?"

"Hmmm," she played. "Tell me a secret. Then I'll tell you one."

"Okay…" he said slowly. He thought a moment. "Do you want a secret about me?"

"A secret, not gossip."

He bit his lip. "Well… Oh gosh, this is hard. I feel like you know most things about me."

"Take your time and think."

He turned his gaze on her eyes and he instantly thought of a secret. That he loved her. But he couldn't very well say that, so he came up with something else. "This is a bad secret. By that, I mean it's obvious. But… I wish… I wish my mum didn't treat me differently than my sisters."

Margaux's thumb stroked his hand and his stomach tingled when he realized she was still holding him. "How does she treat you?"

Dean shrugged. "It's hard to explain. I just… I think she's still in love with my dad, you know? Like… Mar, you can't tell your mum this. Or bring it up ever."

"I promise," she said gently. "I never tell my mum anything."

He grinned briefly. "Okay. Well… I honestly think my dad was the love of her life. I see old photos of them and I've read letters they wrote to each other and just the way she talks about him. She loves my stepdad. I love the man, too. He's honestly such a great guy and I consider him my father. I even call him 'Dad.' But… I think my real dad was her soulmate. And when she looks at me, she sees him."

"How does she treat you different than your sisters?"

Dean bit his cheek. "She just has a different look in her eye. You know she called me 'David' this summer?"

Margaux gasped. "Your dad's name?"

"Yeah. Mark nearly had a heart attack. I did, too. She said I was acting like him, being argumentative. She cried right after she said it. I hugged her as she sobbed and then Mark talked to her. But we never spoke about it again."

"Do you look like him?"

Dean nodded. "Quite a bit, actually. I mean, I look like my mum, too, but you can clearly tell I'm this bloke's son if you look at photos of him."

Margaux nodded softly. "Does it hurt you? That you've never met him?"

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Not consciously. I don't think about it, but when I do I get sad. And I shouldn't. Margaux, I have a wonderful life. I could not ask for a better stepdad. Mark is my father, I love him. I tell him I love him. He loves me and treats me like his own child. He's never made me feel like the outsider, but it's there. It's always there. Have I told you about the old woman in Tesco who thought I was the nanny?"

"No!" she gasped.

"Because…" He laughed to himself. "Because honestly I don't think white people can tell how old I am. Remember I told you this at the wedding, when the bartender didn't even ask me my age? I genuinely think they can't tell. So I was alone with three of my sisters in Tesco this summer. My mum was annoyed with us so she told me to take my sisters to the book section while she shopped. The little two were acting up and I was telling them to settle down. Some woman walking past got all mad and said, 'Girls! Listen to your nanny! He works hard.'"

Margaux's mouth was wide open. "What did your sisters say?"

"They were stunned. None of them said anything. I didn't say anything, I just… I thanked her, ha. I don't know why. I just didn't want a fight."

"Oh my god," Margaux gasped. "That's awful. Okay, this is off topic, but it reminded me. Have you seen the op-eds in The Daily Prophet?"

"Which ones?"

"The letters to the editor. Recently there's been a ton of them writing in talking about muggleborns. Lenore showed me, she cuts the articles out and keeps them. Dean, they've printed five anti-muggleborn letters since we've been back at Hogwarts. Five. They only print the letters to the editor on Sundays. There've been fifteen Sundays. That's a one-third of the time, they are literally printing purist propaganda. And do you see what these people write?"

"I've only read one anti-muggleborn letter. Something about how muggleborns 'steal' magic."

"Yes!" she hissed. She squeezed his hand. "Dean, they say things like muggleborns steal magic from the rightful owner, they're impure, they're health hazards, they even list crimes committed by muggleborns as if they're worse than purebloods. I mean, they're clearing using pre-Holocaust rhetoric."

"Merlin, you're right."

"And I'm just worried about you," she continued. "Really. You have no documentation that your dad is a wizard?"

"None," he whispered. "We don't even know if he was a wizard. I could be a muggleborn."

She nodded and scooted closer to him. "Dean, you need to be careful, alright?"

"I will," he assured her. "I know, trust me."

She nodded and placed her soft hand on his cheek, which made his stomach flip. "Really, Dean. Don't go anywhere alone, don't advertise your blood status, nothing."

"I promise, I'll be careful."

She slid her hand down his cheek and grabbed his hand in both her palms. "I'm scared, too. Scared for my mom. What if they start going after muggles who have married purebloods?"

"It's okay, Mar," he whispered. "Don't worry about that right now. Just relax. I'll be fine."

She settled back into bed. "Okay. But really, if you ever feel endangered, tell me. I'll help."

"Alright," he said gently. He placed his hand on top of hers, so that now all four of their hands were touching. "I will. Don't worry. Do you want to hear another secret?"

She nodded and he gulped. He decided to just spill everything. He had been thinking about this for a while, especially this week after a wave of attacks on muggles were featured in The Daily Prophet.

"I… I've… I've never really felt like I've fit in anywhere. Not in my family, because I'm not like, the same DNA as all them. Not in society, because… Because I'm that stereotype, Mar. You hear it all the time. Racist stuff like, 'Black men are absent fathers,' 'Black men get white women pregnant and leave.' But it wasn't like that. It's not like that for anyone, it's more complex than that, but in my case, it's just plain not true. He didn't leave because he wanted to. I know that for a fact. That's the only thing I'm sure of. I mean, they were married, for fucks sake, he didn't just up and leave because he was having a kid."

"Did… did he die before or after you were born?"

Dean met her eye. "He left when my mum was eight months pregnant. He was missing for two months. They found him when I was a month old. They said he died of knife wounds, but Mar, you know there's a spell that replicates knife wounds."

She nodded and squeezed his hands.

"But they never found who killed him. They assumed it was gang violence, just because he's black. My parents lived in a rough neighborhood and the police were shit. Nobody cared that a black man died. His case is still open. But it wasn't gang violence. My dad was not in a gang, that's ridiculous. He had a good job, he was an accountant. But I don't have to defend him. It doesn't matter what his job was, he wasn't treated fairly by detectives. But anyway, something else that's annoying me. When people see I have a white stepdad, they act like he's a hero. And he is my hero, in a way. But they act like he's like… my savior. Like I would've been starving on the street without this white man rescuing little black me. That's what people see, Mar. I mean, I was raised in an all-white family. Okay, think about it like this. Your dad is half-Jewish, right?"

"Yeah."

"He can hide it. He can choose to identify as Jewish or not. I'm not discrediting him, I'm just saying… I can't choose to not identify as black. I love being black, don't get me wrong. I love my skin and my people and my mum did a good job handling the differences. She learned how to do my hair, how to help me take care of my skin, she wasn't like one of those 'I don't see color' people. She saw my color and appreciated it. But the thing is, society sees me as black. And I am, obviously, I consider myself black. But… it's just different, you know? I'm as black as I am white, I feel like I should be able to pick."

She squeezed his hand. "Do you think that puts you in a box? Like, there's so many stereotypes against black people, are you ever self-conscious about how you present yourself?"

"Absolutely. There's not many black people at Hogwarts. I mean… there's… a fair amount. It's not like _all_ white people. But we went to the same primary school. You know there were a lot more people of all colors there than here."

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Sometimes… I feel like I have to be a middle man all the time. Between my family and wizards, or my white friends and my black friends, or my pureblood friends and my muggleborn friends. And I just feel lost. I never feel like one complete thing. I don't feel like a muggle, but I… I don't consider myself a… a full wizard. That's bad, I know. I also don't always consider myself black, even though by looking the way I do, I've experienced the same… treatment from bad people. But I'm not immersed in black culture, you know? I'm around white people at home and at school. That's not a bad thing, but you know, the other day Terry was telling me about Christmas at his family's house. It a different dynamic than my family but he acted like I could relate to everything he said. It's just hard, feeling like you're caught in the middle. I really don't think I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor, either."

"What do you think you should be in?"

"Ravenclaw," he said. "I mean… I can draw, I can cook, isn't that creative? Am I creative? I'm not like the other Gryffindors. I'm not like you. I'm just easy-going, chill, non-confrontational…"

"I think you're meant to be here," she said gently.

"Why do you say that?"

"You punched Randall for me."

"He hit you," Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm going to hit him."

"I don't think a lot of blokes would punch someone for me. Especially not Ravenclaws. They're like Slytherins. They refuse to get involved. But you stood up for me. You are a Gryffindor, Dean. I can't exactly tell you why, but I know you are. You're going to do something really, really Gryffindor one day, I know it."

He smiled and squeezed her hands. "Thanks, Mar."

She beamed. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

"Nah. You tell me a secret now."

"Alright…" She thought for a while. "You told me a really good secret, Dean. I don't have anything that deep to share with you."

"No, I want to hear anything and everything you want to tell me."

"Okay," she sighed. "Well… you'll find this out soon enough. I get stressed out really easily. Like to the point I just shut down. I have really bad anxiety and I think it's because I was bullied as a kid."

His eyes widened. "You were bullied?"

She nodded. "None of the girls in my class liked me. I'm still really paranoid people don't like me. I need to be liked. It's… it's awful really." She exhaled a laugh. "I get stressed out when I think people don't like me. All this stuff with Ginny really upset me. It brought me back to elementary school, when girls would take my things and break them. They'd break my pens or rip up my art or make fun of my headbands. I know… I know people call Luna weird. People ask me why I'm friends with her, because on the surface we're nothing alike. But on the inside, I'm Luna. I was just… I was forced to dial it back. I understand her. Her and Derek are my best friends. You know Luna and Ginny were the first close female friends I ever had? I was only ever friends with boys."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They were the only ones who weren't mean to me. It's not all girls. The girls at primary school here were quite nice. I liked them. But after four years with the girls in the U.S… I was just scared. I've always been scared to make friends, even though I'm friendly. I don't know. I don't even know myself. It messed with my brain, being bullied."

"Is that hard?" Dean asked. "Like, is it hard for you to open up to people?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I… I go through periods of self doubt. A lot, actually. And nobody understands that. My family is very like, 'just suck it up.' But I can't. It hurts."

He tightened his grip on her hands. "I understand. Even Lenore?"

Margaux nodded. "I mean, she's better than my parents. She cares, she just doesn't understand. I just don't think you could understand unless you've felt the same way and I'm not sure she's ever felt the same way."

"Because she wasn't bullied?"

Another small nod and Dean did not take his eyes off her. "Lenore's always had friends and I don't know how. She's introverted, but people come up to her and they just start talking so easily. It's harder for me. I don't think I'm as approachable. I also start to doubt myself mid-conversation and I think I start acting weird. I don't know, that could just be the self-doubt."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I bet it is. I really think you sound a bit like Neville."

"I might," she sighed. "But I think I'm more like Luna. She has the same fears, she's just learned how to get over it. I haven't learned yet."

"I can help you, if you ever need anything," he murmured. "I don't know what I could offer, just… a pair of ears."

She beamed. "Thanks. You are a great listener."

Dean stared at her, never taking his eyes off of her. She remained silent and pulled his hands closer to her body. She placed her cheek on the back of his palm and smiled. "Anyway, let's talk about something happy. You just won a game!"

His torso rattled with nerves. Margaux was in his bed, curled close to him, holding him and sharing her most intimate secrets. He managed to smile and play it cool, but inside he was practically shaking. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to confess his feelings, right here and now. He could not take much more of this flirting. At least, it seemed like she was flirting with him. But she couldn't be. She just missed him, one of her best friends. That was okay. At least she was close to him again. Still, he wanted to kiss her. Her lips looked so enticing. He had kissed her twice, the first time he did not remember and the second time he was too shocked to take it all in. The next time they kissed, however— if they ever did kiss— it would be soft, sweet, slow. He wanted her to know he cared about her, as more than just a snog. He was so obviously in love with this girl in his bed, the problem is, she didn't seem to feel the same way.

He gripped her hands. "Alright! What should we talk about?"

"Tell me the happiest moment of your life," she smiled.

"Of my entire life?" he said. "Mmm… gosh, this is hard."

"Okay, of this past year."

He smiled. "I don't know. Can I tell you the artsiest moment?"

"The what?" she laughed.

"The most bittersweet. A scene that would be in a movie."

"Yes."

"This summer. After we went bowling with your ex and Charlie and their friends. The song from the prom scene of _Pretty in Pink_ was playing over the car radio. It was dark, only the sound of the tires over the broken pavement. Kunal was holding Heather's hand as he drove. You and your ex were whispering in each other's ear. Charlie was nearly asleep on the floor. Everyone was in their own little world, except for me. I saw everything. I like moments like that. It's almost like you get to be God. You see everything, you say nothing, and the world keeps turning, moving over the cracked streets of that shitty little town."

Margaux's lips were parted. "Were you happy then?"

"I felt nothing," he whispered. "Nothing at all. I was just content to be alone."

Her eyes scanned his, then she said. "I don't really have a moment like that. Let me think… something that would be a scene in a movie… Honestly, all of today. Your ex destroying my stuff, but guess who's in bed with you right now? Me, not her. That's very soap opera."

He laughed and she joined him. "You're right."

"You really don't have one super happy moment that sticks out to you?"

He thought a moment. "The day my oldest sister was born."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I had always wanted a sibling. It was just me and my mum for a while, then came Mark when I was four, then Camila when I was nearly six. I don't remember a time before Camila and Mark, but I remember the feeling when she was born. How happy I was to have a little family. I sat in the hospital bed with my mum and this little baby. Mark held my hand and rested his head on my shoulder as I looked down at Camila. That was a happy moment. Then when I found out I was a wizard."

"Tell me how you found out!"

"Well, I'd always been able to do little things, but I never told my parents. I thought it was my own secret. I could refill my cup if I ran out of juice. That was my main trick and it took a lot of focusing. When I got mad when I saw little, I would smash my fists on the table and send things flying. My mum thought I was just really strong, but now she thinks I was losing control over my magic. When I was ten, a representative from both the muggle and wizarding Ministry came to talk to my parents. Dumbledore came, as well. It took hours of convincing. My parents didn't believe it. They thought it was a ploy to kidnap their child. Then Dumbledore had me do some tricks. I finally showed them my trick that I could refill a glass and my mum nearly fainted. They explained that my dad could've have a wizard and then Mark nearly fainted."

Margaux giggled. "And they were okay with sending you away?"

He nodded. "Dumbledore had these special goggles, I guess, that lets muggles see Hogwarts. So, they took a tour, they had a year to think about it, and then finally decided it would be best for me. I'm so glad they did, honestly. What about your mum, was she okay with sending you away?"

"She doesn't like it," Margaux said. "I can tell. But she had eleven years to come to terms with it. She knew we would go there eventually. She just didn't expect an empty nest when her kids were eleven. Did your mom ever suspect your dad was a wizard?"

Dean shook his head. "No, but one summer, Neville's grandmother brought him over to my house for a playdate. My mum was outside watering the plants and she heard a pop. She said me her heart stopped, because they appeared right in front of her, on her front stoop. She stared at them for a while and his grandmother had to explain apparation to her. Then she told me my dad didn't own a car. He claimed to use public transport, but he was always, always exactly on time. Not a minute late, not a minute early. And sometimes she would hear that pop. So she figured out, like thirteen years later, that he could have been apparating."

"Wow!" she gasped. "Damn. Anything else?"

"She said he was brilliant at fixing things. Then I told her they have spells to fix things and she suspects he used those."

Margaux giggled. "My mom thought my dad was a genius with fixing things until Lenore pointed out that my dad was using spells to fix everything. I'm going to try that on my muggle family. My dad already does. He'll move their cups a few inches to the side or makes their cooking boil over. Like annoying things like that."

"I can't wait to do that with my family," he said. "We haven't told my sisters I'm magical. They wouldn't understand. Mum wants to wait until Bella is an older teenager, but that's like ten years away."

"They just think you go to a private school? How's your mom going to explain that to them when they go to a normal secondary school?"

He shrugged. "No idea. That'll be interesting. I'm really excited to mess with their husbands and boyfriends. That's a long way away, too, but I look forward to it."

She laughed. "You're a prat. What do you want to do after Hogwarts? Like go to uni or what?"

"I've thought about it. I think I've told you I want to paint the moving portraits or become a chef. The Ministry has training programs for both of those. I might do both, then decide. They're just a couple years each. You still want to be an astronomer?"

"Right now, yeah," she grinned. "I change my mind all the time, but I've always loved astronomy. The Ministry trains you for that, too. Or I could go to a muggle university. I haven't decided."

"Have you told Slughorn that's what you want to do?"

"Why so I can suck up to him?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "I heard you got into his little conceited wankers club."

"I did," she giggled. "And yeah, I've told him. He was impressed. I think that's how I got in. He loves my dad, though, so it's probably because of that."

"Nah."

"Nah?"

"Nah," he smiled, "it's because you're charming."

"I'm charming, huh?"

"Mmhm. You're very personable and friendly."

"Unlike Belby."

Dean laughed. "I knew that kid wasn't going to get in."

"The last meeting before decisions, he slung an arm around Slughorn and asked, 'So, if I get in, do you think I can convince this fit bird to come with me to the Christmas party?'"

"He said that?" Dean gasped. "'Fit bird?'"

Margaux giggled and nodded. "He's a moron. Slughorn was not impressed. We got a lecture about how, if we are invited to the Christmas party, we have to bring a date with the upmost class because there's going to be all sorts of famous witches and wizards there."

"Who are you bringing?"

"Well…" she said slowly. "Do _you_ want to go to the party with me?"

He blinked and his stomach churned with nerves. She could not be asking him out. He had to clarify before he made a fool of himself. "As… your date?"

She shook her head and smiled warmly. "As my 'Please Save Me From the Preps' mate."

He exhaled a chuckle, but he was just the tiniest bit sad this was not a date. "Yeah!" he said. "Yeah for sure. When is it?"

"The seventeenth. Tuesday night, before we leave for break."

"Yes," he nodded. "Absolutely."

"Thanks. Slughorn's going to think you're in the Slug Club at this point."

"Well, two events and I'm not even a member? I'm catching the elite bug."

"Lord Thomas," she grinned. "It's like being an MP of Hogwarts. Quite a honor, but a stupid one."

He smiled. "Wow, I have a week and a half to get pretentious."

"Mmm, I don't think it'll take much work for you."

"Nah, I could fall into the rich person lifestyle quite easily."

"I couldn't," Margaux shook her head. "Nope. I'm very stingy with money."

"I know," he smiled. "You'd get used to it."

She shook her head. "I don't think I would. I could be a football mum though."

"Going to the park to watch your little ones play football?"

"Wearing the Nike hat, buying everyone carrots and juice boxes, naming my kids 'Kyle' and 'Evan,' oh I could absolutely do that."

"Please tell me you don't actually like those names."

"Absolutely hate them," she giggled.

"You know what I'd name my kids?"

She gasped. "You've thought about naming your children? I didn't know blokes did that!"

Dean's cheeks burned but he still smiled. "Well, I do. I like Estlin for a boy, after e.e. cummings' real name, and Audre for a girl, after Audre Lorde."

"Dean!" she grinned. "Those are so cute! Oh my god, I can't believe you've thought about this. I genuinely didn't think blokes thought about children."

He shrugged. "Some do. Neville has. Even Seamus has, but I think he's kidding. He said he wants to name his kid "Mahoney' after his favorite professional wrestler, Balls Mahoney."

Margaux shrieked with laughter. "He's an idiot."

"But he's my idiot," Dean grinned.

"That's right. Aww! You two are perfect. I almost wish you two were dating."

He chuckled. "We're too close now! It'd be like dating my brother."

"Maybe in an alternative universe."

"Uh huh," he said slyly.

She laughed and nudged him. "Neville or Seamus, who'd you rather date?"

Dean thought carefully. "If I were me, Seamus. If I were a girl, Neville."

"Why?"

"Neville's just… I don't know. He's not as… blatantly entertaining as Seamus. But I understand Seamus isn't funny to everyone. He's actually quite an arse. Neville is sweet and I think girls like that better than a guy who actually wants to name his son 'Balls,' but he goes with 'Mahoney' instead."

"Okay," Margaux giggled. "You, Seamus, or Neville. Who do you think the average girl should date?"

"Oh, me," he said without hesitation. "I'm great."

She laughed. "Why?"

"Seriously, Mar, you'll get a taste of Date Dean at the Christmas party. I am a complete gentleman."

"Oh?" her eyes widened. "You'll be the perfect little arm candy?"

He held out his elbow and she took it, which made his heart swell. "Just practice."

"Okay, what am I practicing?"

Dean craned his neck. "Oh, hello Professor Slughorn! Yes, I'm doing well. But you know who's doing even better? Miss Henry, here. Did you hear she's thinking about becoming an astronomer? Top of her class at the subject."

Margaux laughed and let go of him. "That'll do. You can be my hype man."

"You're already my hype man," he smiled.

"Before the game?"

He nodded. "Thank you. Honestly, that helped calm my nerves."

"Yeah, no problem. I thought you'd need it. If only I'd called you 'luv' like—"

"Mar!" he laughed. "I'm never going to live that down am I?"

"Never in a blue moon, Thomas."

He smiled at her and squeezed her hands. He was going to go on a date with Margaux Henry. Well, not technically. But sort of. He would treat it like a date, try to romance her. She deserved the star treatment after tonight. After the past few months, actually. He could not apologize to her enough about the globe incident. She did not deserve to be treated that way. Nobody did. Margaux deserved the world, the only problem was, he couldn't give it to her.

"So… tell me something funny."

"Something funny?" she grinned as she stared into his eyes.

"Yeah," he returned the smile.

"Something funny, okay," she thought a moment. "Your face."

"Ha ha," he rolled his eyes and feigned offense, although the quip truly did make him gleeful. "A story. Tell me something funny that's happened to you recently."

"Mmm…" She took a while to think. "I don't know. Ooo, wait! Last week, I was hanging out with my roommates, minus Ginny. So, Helaine is dating Dagwood Bukowski, you know that right?"

Dean nodded.

"And Kadence is dating Andi Nassar, a Hufflepuff in my year."

"Never met her but got it."

Margaux giggled and he had no idea why. Maybe his over-eagerness to listen to her story.

"And then Verona is dating Ed Wu, you know Ed."

"I do," Dean smiled as she referenced the Gryffindor a year below him. "God, everyone is dating someone in your dorm?"

"Yes!" she said. "It's like, steady dating, too. Verona and Ed have been together since June, Helaine and Dagwood since September, and Kadence and Andi will probably get married, in my opinion. They've been together for a year but I can just tell."

"You can tell this early? At 16?"

Margaux nodded. "Some people you can just tell."

"How?"

"I mean, just look at them. I knew Mallory and Blair were going to get married. I knew it about Liza Ferro and Logan Parish. And Sofia Caro and Reyes Garcia. I can just tell who is going to get engaged and whether they'll stay together or not."

"Okay, let me name some couples and you guess."

Margaux grinned. "Okay."

"Helaine and Dagwood."

"Damn!" she said. "You started with a tough one. They won't stay together long enough to be engaged. But, I don't know. They're hard to read. They're shy. I feel like shy people, once they find someone, want to settle down. I don't know."

"Neville and Lenore."

She giggled. "Neville will cling to Lenore for as long as possible. I think… engaged, or nearly engaged, until Lenore throws a fit and changes her mind."

"Mar!" he gasped.

"Just think about it! I'm only guessing!"

Dean laughed and shook his head. "Ron and Lavender."

"Oh fuck no."

He chuckled. "Verona and Ed."

"Hmmm," she said. "Won't stay together after Hogwarts."

"Seamus and his right hand."

Margaux squealed and punched his shoulder. "You're disgusting!" She collapsed into giggles as he smiled with her. "God, I hate you."

"No you don't," he argued.

"Mmm, don't get too sure."

He grinned. "Get back to your story!"

"What story?"

"The funny story about these people."

She stared blankly at him. "I can't remember."

"Mar," he groaned.

She quickly fell into more giggles.

"I heard all that background information and you don't even have a foreground story," he said.

"Sorry! You tell me a story."

"Margaux!" he laughed. "I asked you!"

"And I told you, I forgot it."

"So tell another one."

"So don't tell me what to do."

He stared into her playful green eyes, her lips pursed into a smirk.

"You're difficult."

She faux-gasped. "I am not!"

"You are!" he laughed.

She pushed his chest lightly. "You're difficult!"

"Nope!"

She giggled as she yanked his pillow out from under his head and jammed it on top of his face. "Margaux!" he laughed as she pretended to suffocate him.

She giggled and placed a knee between his legs. He could feel his breath stop as he realized her knees straddled his left thigh. Merlin, she was halfway on top of him, laughing so sweetly as she teased him. He finally pushed the pillow away from his face and witnessed her smiling down on him, still in her playful mood. His stomach flipped. He wanted nothing more than for her to kiss him. Kiss him like their last kiss, when she lingered on top of him, over his legs, until their lips met and his breath collapsed his lungs. She grabbed his hands and yanked him upright, and for just a split second, he really believed she was about to kiss him. But that was ridiculous. She merely giggled, extraordinarily close to his face, and whispered, "Darn. You're alive."

He exhaled a laugh. "You didn't suffocate me long enough."

"I'll remember next time. More than seven seconds."

He chuckled as she squeezed his hands, her face still only inches from his.

At once, the door to the dormitory burst open and Neville rushed inside. Dean nearly had a heart attack to snap him out of his blissful daze. Neville's eyes widened as his gaze flew to Margaux in Dean's bed. He immediately shut his eyes. "Sorry!"

"We're decent," Margaux laughed. She let go of Dean and sat down next to him.

He gulped. "So decent nothing came off in the first place."

She laughed and Neville stared at the pair.

"Why are you looking so disheveled?" Dean asked as he settled against his headboard.

Margaux examined Neville, who was clearly in a state. His shirt wasn't tucked in properly, his hair was a mess, his eyes darted around. "I…." He glanced at Margaux, then back to Dean. "I was out with Len."

Margaux plugged her ears at once. "Ew! Don't tell me anything!"

"Tell me!" Dean urged him.

"I-I don't want to make Margaux uncomfortable. I-I'll tell you later."

"God," she sighed. "You know your shirt is tucked in horribly?"

Neville glanced down and attempted to fix his shirt.

Margaux gasped. "Your buttons aren't done right!" Dean squinted and sure enough, Neville had an extra button on the bottom right, but no hole on the left to capture the extra fabric. "God, she had your shirt off! I'm leaving, bye!"

Margaux hopped out of bed and it was Dean's turn to look frantic. "Wait, you're leaving?"

She smiled and crawled back under the sheets. "Nah, I'm kidding. As long as Neville fixes his shirt, I'll stay."

"I-I'll fix it," he said.

He grabbed a pair of pajamas, ducked into the bathroom and shut the door, then Margaux turned to Dean and giggled. "I bet he tells you everything."

"I hear quite a bit," Dean exhaled.

Margaux crinkled her nose. "That's funny. And odd. You've known Lenore since you two were ten."

He shrugged. "No skin off my bones, she—"

"'No skin off my bones?'" Margaux shrieked with laughter. "It's 'no skin off my back!'"

Dean flushed and laughed. "No it's not!"

"Yes it is! It literally is."

"No, it's 'bones.' That's the way I've heard it."

"Well you've heard wrong."

He smiled. "Nope. You're wrong."

"Dean," she said, "I'm dead serious. It's 'back.' Or 'nose.' Either one. But it's definitely not 'bones.'"

"We'll just ask Neville when he comes out."

"Ask me what?" a voice called as the bathroom door opened.

Margaux turned around. "No skin off my bones or no skin off my back?"

Neville was silent with confusion. "Isn't it 'no shirt off my back?'"

"HA!" Dean laughed loudly as Margaux shrieked, "No! You two, quit being idiots! It's 'no skin off my back!'"

"I think this is a muggle thing," Neville smiled. "I've never heard either in my life."

She groaned. "I'm going to ask Lenore."

"Speaking of," Dean grinned to Neville. "How was the snog?"

Neville immediately flushed red and Margaux grumbled. Dean checked his watch. "Just now getting back? That was a long snog."

Neville climbed into his bed, but didn't get under the covers. He sat up in bed and grabbed a book off his nightstand, but remained quiet.

"Come on, mate," Dean said. "You know you want to tell me."

"I want to tell you, yeah, but Margaux doesn't want to hear and I'm not going to make her uncomfortable."

"What do you two do?" Margaux blurted out. "I can't gauge it. Like, little sweet kisses or heavy petting or what?"

"W-what is heavy petting?"

Margaux cringed. "Like… Ew, never mind, I'm not discussing this."

"W-we… snog," he said. "Like… pretty hard."

Dean smirked. "You're snogging her hard or you're getting hard?"

Margaux squealed and covered her ears as Neville cringed. "Okay! I really think I should be going! Dean, lovely to talk to you. Neville, not so much, but it's always a pleasure."

Dean laughed, then Margaux waved goodbye and said, "Remember the seventeenth, you're with me."

He smiled. "Of course. Goodnight."

"Night," she grinned. "Nice chat."

He nodded and she exited the boys' dormitory with another wave. Dean smiled to himself like a bloody idiot, until Neville said. "You were in bed with her?"

"Just chatting!" he argued.

Neville raised his brow. "What's the seventeenth?"

Dean sat up straighter. "Guess who asked me to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

"No!" Neville gasped. "She asked you?"

Dean beamed, his heart giddy. "As mates, but I mean… I can treat it like a date and maybe she'll get the hint."

"Dean, that's great," Neville grinned. "Way to go, mate!"

"Way to go with you!" he shouted. "Coming in here with your clothes disheveled. You two just went for each other, didn't you?"

Neville shut his textbook. "Oh! By the way, thanks so much for discussing my willy in front of my girlfriend's sister!"

"Tell me everything!" Dean laughed.

Neville sighed and closed his eyes. "God. Best snog of my life."

 **.**

 **Lenore's POV, 2.5 hours earlier**

As Lenore stood in the Gryffindor common room refilling her drink, a pair of hands slipped around her waist and held her from behind as a voice murmured, "I won."

She laughed as Neville kissed her neck. "You won? You carried the team?"

"Yes," he chuckled.

She turned around to face Neville and he planted a kiss on her lips.

"Comforting the mourning, eh Longbottom?"

Neville pulled back with a smile at Terry's words. He had mysteriously appeared at the punch bowl next to Lenore, who laughed. "I'm distraught."

Terry tsk-ed. "Neville already told me about your wager."

Lenore's lips parted and she glared at Neville, who flushed red.

"Get out of here, you pesky kids!" Terry laughed.

"Wait!" Lenore called as Terry turned to leave. She ushered him closer and whispered, "How do you think it went with Odette?"

"Well," Terry said slowly, "you'll notice I'm holding two drinks."

"STOP!" Lenore gasped as she grabbed his arm. Red liquid spilled on his sleeve. "She's talking to you again?"

"Lenny! he laughed. "Calm down. You're getting me all messy. Yeah, she found me, she's over near the fireplace."

Lenore craned her neck and sure enough, Odette stood near the fireplace with Faye Dunbar and Michael Corner. She squealed, "Go!"

Terry laughed as she pushed him away. "Join us!"

"We'll be there in a minute," Lenore smiled as Terry left their vicinity.

Neville's eyes widened. "You want to go with them? Not… just us?"

Lenore turned to him and stepped closer. She did not want to hurt his feelings, but she was slightly more interested in the Odette and Terry relationship at the moment, no matter how much she wanted to snog Neville. She wrapped her arms around his back and kissed his collarbone. Her hand slid to the back of his head and she pulled his ear down to her lips. "Let's build some more suspense."

"More?" he exhaled.

"Yes, more," she said. "I know you're roaring to go, but please, Neville, Odette is one of my best friends. And Terry is one of yours. Don't you want to see how this turns out?"

He hesitated, his eyes shifting around the floor. "Erm… not as much as I want you."

"Nev," she giggled. She kissed his lips, which he gratefully and urgently returned. "Please? I promise, it'll all be worth it."

Neville nodded slowly. "Alright. Anything you want. I kind of want to see what happens, too. But you have to flirt with me as much as possible."

"Of course!" she laughed. "I promise. Let's go sit on the couch next to them."

She grabbed Neville's hand led him to the couch near the fireplace. A single spot was open on the sofa and Neville offered it to her, but she declined as she waved hello to everyone. Neville sat down next to Michael, then Faye was on the end as Terry and Odette stood. Lenore started to sit on the arm of the couch, until she decided to take a seat directly on Neville's lap. He was clearly shocked as she planted her bum on his thighs then bent her legs and placed her feet on couch between Neville and Michael.

"You're being quite bold," Odette laughed.

Lenore slung an arm around the still-shocked Neville, who soon did the same to her. "I guess so."

As Faye continued her conversation, Lenore leaned into Neville's ear. "Flirty enough for you?"

He nodded, his eyes wide. Lenore adjusted her weight on him to ensure they were both comfortable, then she began listening to Faye. As the conversation carried on, Neville's hand wrapped around her stomach and slowly circled her hip closest to him. Her heart warmed and she briefly kissed his forehead.

"We were just talking about professors we hate," Terry said to welcome the two new group members.

"Who have you discussed so far?" asked Lenore.

Faye laughed. "Who haven't we?"

"Let's see," said Michael. "We've talked Snape, Flitwick, Barnes…"

"Have you gotten to Babbling?" asked Lenore.

"No!" Faye gasped. "Oh my god, I can't stand her."

"Me neither!" said Odette. "One time Padma Patil and I were talking in her class. It wasn't even while she was giving a lecture, it was when she gave us an assignment. She gives so much busy work and I swear she doesn't even both to grade it correctly. But anyway, we were talking and—"

As Odette spoke, Lenore moved her arm from Neville's shoulders to her lap. She wasn't even paying attention to her friend's words anymore, she was focused on completing her discreet task. Her arm oh-so-slowly slid toward Neville's leg, then she dipped down in the space between their bodies and laid her hand on his inner thigh. He tightened his grip on her hip and she heard him inhale a tiny, sharp breath. She kept her hand there, not moving, not gripping, merely resting inside his warm upper thigh. He remained completely still as they both watched Odette speaking.

"—then she told Padma that she was going to fail her N.E.W.T.s! It was week two of the fiirst N.E.W.T.s lesson! You don't know that!"

Terry nodded. "She told me I was going to fail, too! All I did was forget to turn in one assignment."

"She took off points on my test because I wrote the wrong date," said Lenore.

"Me, too!" nodded Michael.

Lenore laid the side of her legs closer to Neville's chest. "I'm so glad I didn't keep taking Ancient Runes."

"God, me too," said Odette, to which Michael nodded.

"I have to take it," Faye sighed.

"Me, too," said Neville.

"Why?" asked Lenore.

"If I want to become an auror, I need it for some reason," answered Faye.

Neville nodded.

"I regret not taking Herbology," said Michael.

"Me too!" said Lenore. "That's my biggest regret ever."

Terry grinned. "Yeah, but if you're really interested, Longbottom will teach you."

"I know he will," she smiled at Neville. It was the first time she had made eye contact with him since she touched his inner thigh. He swallowed nervously and grinned at her. She moved her free arm across her body and laid her hand on the back of his head. "Trust me," she continued, "I hear tons about herbology."

Odette turned to her date. "What's your favorite subject, Terry?"

"I like Transfiguration. What about you?"

"I love Transfiguration, but I'm terrible at it," she said. "It's one of my favorite subjects and I understand it, but I have trouble doing it. My favorite subject that I can actually do is History of Magic."

"Really?" Terry's eyes widened. "Man, I'm rubbish at that. I didn't know anybody actually liked that subject. What career do you want?"

"I think I want to be a research librarian," she said timidly.

"Do you like to read?"

"Yeah. I like research and helping people. I want to work at the Ministry-run library."

"The one for the public?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Wow," he said. Lenore could tell he was impressed and it warmed her heart.

Odette smiled. "What about you?"

"I'd like to be a healer," said Terry.

"No way," she gasped.

He nodded. "I'd like to try. I'm good at the science subjects and rubbish at everything else."

Odette grinned at him and shook her head. "I didn't know you were ambitious."

He laughed. "I don't know about that."

"She thought you sat around all day and smoked," Michael cut in.

Terry glanced at Odette, whose eyes were wide. "No! But… this is the first time we've ever talked when you weren't high."

"We've talked before?"

Lenore practically yelled with laughter and Odette joined her, abet more muted. "Yeah," Odette said. "I thought you were just a stoner. But you're obviously not."

"I-I'm not," he said quietly. "I mean… I smoke, but I'm not… weird about it. I…"

He was tripping over his words, so Lenore decided to help him. "He's not one of those guys who's like 'pot is my life,' '420 forever,' 'dude that was dank.'"

Terry and Odette chuckled. "No, that's not me. It's just… a side hobby."

"Did you smoke with Seamus last night?" Michael asked.

Terry nodded slowly. "Yeah. Mates, you're going to make me look so bad."

"You don't look bad." Odette grinned and bit her lip as she gave him a once-over.

Terry was clearly flustered. "Thanks. You… either."

Odette laughed and Lenore moved her face to Neville's hair to contain her giggles. Lenore kissed Neville's hair, which smelled freshly-washed with his woodsy shampoo.

"Ew," Michael said. "There are too many couples around."

Faye glanced around the group. "Can I ask you all something?"

Everyone nodded, so she continued. "How do I get a bloke to snog me?"

"Which bloke?" Lenore asked.

Faye shrugged. "I mean… just in general."

"Just walk up to him," said Michael. "Most blokes, that's all it takes before they start thinking about snogging."

"Is that true?" asked Odette.

Michael nodded. "Oh yeah. We're awful. You could be talking to us and our minds will wander and before you know it, we're not listening, we're thinking about snogging you."

"No," Terry said. "Not all of us are animals."

"Well, you have to be attracted to the girl," Michael said.

Faye groaned. "You are useless. Odette, help me."

"He's kind of right," Odette said. "I normally just talk to them for a while, build a connection, then lean in real close and say 'Want to go talk in private?' But it's harder with someone you've fancied for a while. Do you fancy him?"

Another shrug from Faye. "I don't know. Probably not. Actually, I know I don't."

"Well, if you do, ignore it," Odette said. "Then you won't be nervous. Are you trying to do this tonight?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he—"

Lenore could feel Neville lean in close to her ear. His hot breath cascaded over her cheek as he whispered, "Len?"

She turned to look at him. He placed his palm over her hand on his thigh, then leaned into her ear again. "Y-you can have your hand there, b-but please don't rub."

She glanced down. "Was I rubbing?"

He nodded and bit his lip.

"Sorry!" she gasped quietly. "Oh my god, I didn't mean to."

"I-I didn't think it was a conscious thing."

Lenore could feel her face burning. "Sorry."

He kissed her neck quickly, then murmured in her ear, "You feel so bloody good."

Her stomach flipped and she massaged her fingers over his hair.

"Hey, Lenore," Michael said, interrupting her little moment of bliss. "What do you think Jack would do if Faye just walked up to him and snogged him?"

Faye jammed a hand over Michael's mouth as he laughed loudly. Lenore grinned. "Jack Sloper? Try it. I think he'd love to make out."

"What about if Michael asked Leanne for a snog?" Faye announced.

Lenore raised her eyebrows. "Leanne? I'm not sure. She's shy. I don't think she'd just snog someone."

"Do you think she'd hate me if I tried?" he asked.

"You can try it," Lenore said. "But I really do not think she'll go for it. Faye should go for Jack though, I think he's interested in her. I saw him looking over at you."

"Jack is interested in Faye," Neville said. "Dean told me."

"How does Dean know?" Faye gasped.

"Margaux told him and Jack told Margaux."

Faye patted down her hair. "No way. Interested in me? In _me_? Like, he fancies me or he fancies a snog?"

Neville shrugged. "I assume fancies you."

She shook her head and laughed. "You're fucking with me, Longbottom."

"No!" he said. "Really. I don't joke around about that stuff."

"He doesn't," said Lenore.

Faye nodded. "Okay. Okay, gosh. I have to work up my nerve. God, Jack Sloper. There's no way. I still don't believe you. Oh shit, if he does fancy me, maybe I shouldn't snog him."

"Why not?" asked Michael.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't want him to think I fancy him."

"Then don't," Lenore said. "If you don't fancy him, don't lead him on like that."

"But what if he doesn't fancy me?"

"I think you need to pick a new target," said Lenore.

Fay sighed. "Okay. Who's that bloke next to him?"

"Faye!" Lenore laughed. "What if he does fancy you and you're off snogging his mate?"

"He's cute!" she said.

"That's Horatio Pershore," said Terry.

"He's gross," Lenore said. "One time he flirted with me by sticking his fingers under the holes in my jeans."

"What's wrong with that?" asked Faye.

"Ew!" Lenore said. "Absolutely not. It was invasive. I didn't want him touching me."

"He's fit," Faye shrugged.

"So?"

"And he's Italian."

"So?"

Faye squinted at Lenore. "I'm still gonna try. Is he a Slytherin or something?"

Odette nodded. "A year below us. I think he's gross, too, by the way."

"Thank you," Lenore smirked.

Faye rolled her eyes. "Alright, so he'll definitely be down for just a snog."

"You don't like Jack?" Terry asked.

Faye glanced back at Jack. "Well… he lost us nearly every single quidditch game, didn't he?"

"So?" Lenore said a third time. "He's a genuinely nice guy."

"I'm just looking for a snog, god!" Faye said as she took a huge swig of her drink. "I'm going to go talk to Horatio."

Terry made a low rumbling noise as she climbed off the couch. Lenore craned her neck as she watched Faye walk over to the group of Horatio, Jack and a Hufflepuff boy. As she stepped closer to Horatio, Jack was clearly distressed. The five watched as she pulled Horatio away from the group, leaving Jack and the Hufflepuff. Jack stared at the floor, downed his drink, then disappeared with his friend into the crowd.

Lenore's fingers slid across the back of Neville's neck. "I think Neville was right."

"I think so, too," Odette agreed.

"I'm pretty sure Jack likes her," whispered Terry. "I feel like I recall someone saying that before Neville."

"Maybe Seamus?" asked Neville.

"Maybe," said Terry. "Or I heard it straight from Jack. I honestly can't remember."

"Why, were you high?" Odette smirked from behind her cup.

Terry laughed nervously. "I very well could've been."

Odette's wide brown eyes sparkled up at him and he exhaled some more laughter as he stared at her. Lenore clutched Neville's head tighter, a sign she thought Odette and Terry were being cute.

"I think I'm about to gag," Michael said.

Terry grinned and turned to Michael. "Fifth-wheeling now, mmm?"

"I'm quite comfortable with myself here, thank you," he smiled as he settled into the couch.

"Where's Anthony?" Lenore asked.

Michael shrugged. "I thought he was talking to Alicia, but I don't know."

"She said no to a date with him, right?" Odette asked.

Lenore nodded. "She's figuring some stuff out. And Katie's injury really hit her hard. I just don't think she wants to date right now."

"I think Anthony understands that," said Terry. "I think he's just trying to be nice at this point. He doesn't like to see her sad."

"Yeah," Lenore said quietly. "I don't know how to help her. I listen to her, I tell her it'll all be okay, but…" She shook her head. "I'm not as sensitive as Alicia and Leanne. Katie, Angelina and I were always the sensible ones. Angelina is graduated, Katie's in the hospital, so that just leaves me to reign in their emotions and I don't think Alicia appreciates it. I mean, she does after she's done having a fit, but during the fits… I don't think she likes me. She told me I'm not taking Katie's injury seriously."

"You are!" Odette argued. "You just handle things differently."

"Yeah," she whispered slowly. "It's… it's just better for all of us if we can offer Katie support instead of crying about it. It happened. Crying won't change that. But Alicia seems to think we all need to mourn. I don't know. Forget I said all this."

Michael nodded. "Anthony's basically said the same thing."

"He's better at comforting her than I am," Lenore sighed. "I've never been one to comfort."

Neville chimed in. "I think you're pretty good at it."

Her frown disappeared as she turned to him. "Thanks, luv."

He smiled softly and kept his eyes on her as Odette struck up a conversation about Anthony with Michael. Lenore touched her lips to his. As she kissed him, her hand slid just a few centimeters higher, much closer to his most sensitive area. He inhaled sharply on her lips.

"Is this okay?" she murmured.

"Yeah," he said as she tenderly kissed his lips.

"Quit kissing," Michael gagged. "Honestly, you two, what the hell has gotten into you today? I never even see you touch."

Lenore leaned back to laugh. "Can I not appreciate my boyfriend?"

"Not when Longbottom has that look in his eye," Odette laughed.

Neville blinked and flushed red. "What look?"

Odette took a small sip of her drink and shrugged, which made Terry laugh.

Michael grinned. "Is it the same look Terry has?"

Now it was Terry's turn to be embarrassed. He hid part of his face behind his cup and Lenore could see Odette's blush. She glanced over at Terry, who met her eye. She giggled, "Yeah, it's pretty close."

Terry exhaled a nervous laugh and Lenore clutched Neville's shoulder tighter. Watching Odette and Terry being cute somehow made her feel closer to Neville, like the room was full of love. She kissed him once, on the lips, and he smiled brightly. At that same moment, Anthony Goldstein grabbed Michael's shoulders from behind the couch. "Mate," he gleefully exclaimed, "come here!"

Michael bid goodbye and the only people left were the original four, the double daters. Terry glanced nervously to Odette, then ushered to the couch. "Want to sit down?"

"Sure."

She sat down on the end of the couch and Terry took the middle. He folded his hands awkwardly in his lap and played with his thumbs. Lenore had never seen Terry look as shy as he did right now. Odette reached over and placed her hand on top of his, then he flipped his palm over and held her hand. She smiled, then turned to Lenore, still holding his hand.

"So—" She paused and stared at them. "I wish I had a camera. You two look so cute."

Lenore glanced at Neville. "We've never had a photo taken together."

He smiled. "I-I'll bring my camera next term."

She hugged him close, then returned her attention to Odette and Terry. "You two look like you're having a good time."

Odette glanced back at Terry.

"I am," he said.

"I am, too," she smiled.

Terry looked very flustered, obviously surprised Odette was interested in him. He squeezed her hand and turned back to Neville. "I thought you two were going to go snog?"

"We will," Lenore argued. "We're flirting."

"I saw you pawing him over the trousers," Odette laughed.

Both Lenore and Neville turned beet red. "Okay, that was an accident."

"Longbottom didn't seem to think it was an accident!" Terry howled. "His eyes nearly popped out of his head."

Lenore laughed and looked at Neville's blushing cheeks. "Did they now?"

"W-well, sorry," he stammered.

She giggled and planted her face in his neck as he rubbed circles in her back. Odette and Terry were having their own muted conversation, so Lenore focused her full attention on Neville. She kissed his neck and tightened her grip on his thigh. Neville responded by placing his own hand on her legs, much lower than her but still on her inner thigh. She gasped and smiled as she kissed his jawline. "Are you ready to go snog?"

He immediately sat up straighter. "Merlin, yes. We—"

But Lenore's ears detected Odette and Terry's conversation. "Wait," she interrupted Neville. "Hang on, let me eavesdrop."

Odette touched a hand to the back of Terry's head and moved her lips to his ear. "Hey."

"Yeah?" he returned the hushed tone. He kept his arms respectfully to the side, but Lenore could tell he almost placed a hand on Odette's lower back.

She hesitated for a moment, then murmured, "You want to get out of here?"

He blinked and turned his face toward Odette's ear. "To… to do what?"

She grinned playfully and lightly scraped her nails over his short hair. "Anything you want."

Lenore's heart leaped out of her chest and she clutched Neville tighter as she blatantly watched the two. Odette and Terry had really hit it off. She could see the shock on Terry's face as he stammered out, "Y-you… want to go somewhere with me?"

Odette slipped her fingers into his palm. "If you want to, yeah."

"I-I do," he said.

Odette leaned back to view his nervous face. Lenore knew Odette loved making guys nervous. She would be going far with Terry tonight, as long as he kept being nice, funny and respectful. "Alright," she whispered as she stood up. "Come on."

She grabbed his hand and Terry met Lenore's eyes. It had been obvious she was listening. Terry glanced between Lenore and Odette and seemed to find his bearings. He returned his gaze to Odette. "Wait."

She paused and looked innocently down at him. Terry opened and closed his mouth, but no words would come out.

"What?" Odette asked.

Lenore could tell she was anxious. She actually seemed to really enjoy her date with Terry. Terry finally managed to speak. "I just… Would… would you go on a second date with me? Or is this just like… a one time thing?"

Odette bit her lip. "Which do you want?"

"I… I'd really like to go on a date with you again, if you want that."

She beamed. "Yeah. I'll go on another date with you."

Terry sighed out a single laugh to ease his nerves. "Okay. Okay. We can work out the details later. But, I'm really having a nice time with you."

Odette batted her eyelashes. "Want to make it a little better?"

He squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Definitely."

She turned to view Lenore staring at her and she laughed. "Okay, I'm going out with Terry. And I'm sure Neville is about mad for you. See you later, Len!"

Terry said a short goodbye to Neville, still looking incredibly shocked that he was about to make out with Odette Trujillo. The moment they left the couch, Neville turned to Lenore. "Come on," he said. "I know exactly where we're going."

She stood up off of him. "Alright."

He took her hand and led her out of the common room. Lenore laughed. "Eager?"

"Yes."

He paused outside the door and pulled her tight against his body. His lips were wild, he wanted her and it made her giggle from nervousness. After a moment, he took her hand again and led her down a staircase.

"Did you like flirting?" he asked.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I really like you, you know."

He seemed to pick up his pace so she laughed. "You're ready, aren't you?"

"Been ready since I woke up. Actually, I've been wanting to snog you for over a week. Merlin, Len, you're so gorgeous."

She blushed. "Thanks. You're not bad yourself."

 **.**

 **Neville's POV**

Neville smiled shyly, his heart racing as led her outside the Gryffindor Tower. Merlin, was he ready to snog her. Her hand had been mere centimeters from his lap for the last forty minutes and she was right, it did drive him hysterical. They weaved through hallways until Neville decided on an unused classroom on the third floor, where there was the least amount of students and professors roaming around.

"Here?" she asked.

He nodded and Lenore went to work unlocking the door. Pansy had taught her how to do this a long time ago. She pushed Neville inside, relocked the door, then placed another charm Pansy had taught her. This charm would make anyone who came near the door forget why they were trying to go inside. If someone needed inside this classroom, they would forget what they needed and turn around. If they suddenly remembered later and tried the door, the same thing would happen again. It worked perfectly on the senile professors.

Lenore sat down on a desk at the front of the classroom, her feet dangling as Neville stepped between her legs.

"You picked a good classroom, too," she said as he wrapped his arms around her. "These are the double-seated table desks, not those flimsy single desks."

"Well, I didn't want us to tip over."

She smiled. "You think we're going to get that athletic?"

"I hope so."

He looked up at her smiling face. Her sparkling playful eyes, her cute nose turned up with satisfaction, her body language receptive. She was biting her cheek and that was all he could take. He quickly leaned in and attacked her lips. Lenore kissed him deep and frantic, her tongue slipping into his mouth immediately. Neville scooted closer to her and their wild lips devoured each other. He still wasn't close enough to her. He placed a hand behind her head, then pushed her down gently onto the desktop as he leaned over her. She gasped as he made himself comfortable on top of her.

"Neville!" she smiled.

He returned her little grin, until she murmured. "Dominate me."

He shook with nerves but said, "Hang on."

Neville grabbed his wand and placed silencing charms around the room.

"What are the silencing charms for?" she asked from underneath him.

He tossed his wand onto the desk next to them. His hands cupped her jaw, then slid back into her hair as he kissed her, soft but fierce. He pulled back, not enough to look in her eye but just enough so their lips weren't touching. "Because I'm going to make you scream."

"Neville!" she laughed.

He could feel his cheeks burn, but she closed the gap between their lips and slung her arms around his neck. She attacked his lips again, which managed to peel him from his embarrassment. He sunk down closer to her, trying to read her kisses. She was playful today, that was for sure, so he decided to be playful as well.

"You nearly screamed when I touched your thigh, didn't you?"

He smiled briefly, then kissed her. "Yeah. And when you sat on my lap."

"I liked that," she grinned. "I liked flirting in public."

"You like P.D.A. now, do you?"

"No," she giggled. "It was a party, it wasn't like, the library."

"Sit on my lap in the library," he murmured. "Sit on my lap any time you ever want."

She laughed as he kissed her. "So… why do you want to bend me over a desk?"

Neville was visibly shocked and he knew it. "W-what do you mean?"

"Where'd you get the idea from?"

"I-I don't know," he said slowly. He hesitated, then decided to come clean. "I-I mean… I… had a dream that I did."

"You dreamed we were snogging?"

"Y-yeah," he said as his cheeks burned.

Lenore grinned and squeezed his hand. "Alright. So reenact the dream."

"I-I can't reenact _all_ of it."

"Stop!" she laughed. "It was a sex dream, wasn't it?"

Neville remained silent as he stared at the desktop. He shouldn't have told her so much.

"Nev!" she giggled. She reached up and cupped his jaw gently so he would look her in the eye. "You have sex dreams about us?"

His eyes widened. "J-just that one!"

"Neville!" She laughed some more, but he was so embarrassed. "You like snogging me, don't you?"

"O-obviously," he whispered.

"Well I like snogging you," she beamed. "Oh my god, tell me about it later. Kiss me now."

He kissed her slow and steady for a while, each of them able to contain their conversations, giggles and comments as they lost themselves in each other's lips. Neville relaxed on top of her and fell into a stable pattern. His fingers massaged her scalp and she slipped her hands underneath his shirt and jumper to touch his bare back. After a while, he gradually moved down her jaw to her neck, pouring devotion into his kisses as he reached her collar bone. She wore a loose black V-neck blouse with puffed long sleeves and Neville decided to kiss all down the neckline. His lips trailed just above her breasts as she whispered, "Hey, Nev?"

"Yeah?"

She paused. "I'm going to give you a suggestion, but you're in charge, so take it as, I'm giving you permission."

He bit her breast oh so lightly. "To do what?"

"To take off my shirt."

Neville slowed his lip movement and looked up at her. "To… take off your shirt?"

She nodded. "It you want to, you can. It doesn't have to be now. Whenever you want to. You're in charge."

"D-do you want it off?"

"If you want it off, yeah. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't okay with it."

Neville forced his voice to level-out. "Okay."

She smiled and he returned to her neck. He still could not believe what he just heard. Lenore was letting him remove her shirt. He could see her in just a bra if he wanted to. He really did want to. Merlin, he would die to see her even just a little bit naked. But he was scared. True, he had already kind of seen her without a shirt, when they were high down by the lake. He saw her in a lavender bra, but only for a couple seconds and those seconds were hazy. It wasn't really any different than seeing her in a tank top. But this. This would be big. He would get to see her completely naked from the waist up, save for her breasts. His lips faltered as he swallowed his nerves. That was the scariest part. Her breasts. But just her shirtless? He could handle that. That wasn't nearly as scary as he made it out to be. Besides, he wasn't him tonight, he was dominant Neville. He could do this.

He pulled her upright and slipped his hands under her shirt, massaging her skin lovingly. He flattened his palms on her ribs, then slid his hands up to her armpits. His hands entered her sleeves and he pulled up, moved his face away from her and watched as her body was revealed.

He clamped his lips shut tight to avoid gasping, but whoa… she was magnificent. Her waist was the first thing he noticed. The slope between her ribs and hips caught his eye and he immediately wanted to hold her there. Next, her noticed how beautiful and soft her skin looked. He knew she was soft, he had touched her before, but it all looked so smooth. Not like his own skin or the skin of any male he had seen. No, she was delicate and easy on the eyes, like a painting of a person. And her breasts. God, they looked almost as good as they felt. She was wearing a maroon bra, covered in the same color lace. This bra had to have some push-up in it, because he could see the perfectly rounded tops of her breasts peeking out from behind the cups. Merlin, not even peeking. They were there. At least a third of her breasts were visible and—

"Neville," she interrupted his thoughts.

He blinked and noticed her shirt was stuck over her head. Her face obscured by the inside of her shirt, and her arms wrapped in her shirt. He had yanked the cloth over her head at an odd angle. "Sorry!" he gasped.

She laughed as he attempted to free her. His hands worked one arm out, then he tried to swoop it over her head, with no luck.

"It's the buttons," she said. "They're caught on the back of my hair."

"Buttons?"

"Yeah, there are three or four buttons on the back, by the neck."

Neville bit his cheek. This was an oddly designed shirt, but she looked great in it. "Do I have to unbutton them to get it over your head?"

"No, they're decoration. They work, but it's just decor."

Neville flipped her other arm out of the shirt, then carefully moved the shirt over her face and flipped it to her back. As soon as he face was revealed, she smiled at him, which made him laugh. "Hi, luv."

"Hi to you, too," she grinned.

He kissed her lips. "You're so gorgeous."

She kissed him again. "Thanks! You're pulling my hair."

He stopped yanking. "Can you turn around?"

Lenore sat up straighter and turned her shoulders. Merlin, her back was pretty, too. His fingers worked the two buttons out of her hair as she turned all the way around. He discarded her shirt on the desk next to them and she started to face him once again, until her held her wait and said, "Wait!"

She paused. "Okay."

He sunk his fingers into her waist and kissed her shoulders. He flipped her hair over her shoulder and kissed all over her bare skin. "You're beautiful, Len," he murmured. "You look like a painting."

He knew she was smiling. "Thanks."

"You can turn around now."

Slowly, she faced him and sat on her bum once again.

"Lay down," Neville requested.

She obeyed and sprawled out on her back. His eyes widened as he took her in. "You're gorgeous," he whispered in awe. "Bloody hell, you're so fit."

She grinned. "Thanks. I figured you wouldn't mind seeing."

"I definitely don't mind," he said as he leaned down to kiss her lips. "Holy shit, Len, your skin. It's so soft and pretty."

His hands dug into her bare hips and she smiled. "I'm kind of nervous. You're the first boy to see me without a shirt."

"Don't be nervous," he murmured. "God, you're perfect. You're even better than I imagined."

"You imagine me?" she whispered.

Neville was quiet for a beat, then he admitted. "W-well, yeah."

"I imagine you," she smiled. "What you look like shirtless."

"Don't do that," he grinned against her ribs. "That's not a turn on."

"It is," she nudged him. "You are."

"Do-do you want my shirt off?" he nearly whispered.

"Would you be comfortable with that?"

He paused and seemed to be thinking. "I… I don't know."

"Next time, then," she said gently. "Or some other time. You just enjoy me today and I'll enjoy you later."

Neville nodded. "Th-thank you. Really."

Lenore grinned as he kissed the center of her lower ribs. His hands spread across her stomach and his fingers gripped her tummy. She moved his hands. "I don't like that."

"S-sorry," he said. "Why?"

"Mmm, no," she whispered.

He watched her a moment and realized she was self-conscious. She didn't have a flat stomach, but she was not even close to being fat. She was just shapely and he bloody loved it. However, he knew girls didn't always like shapely, they liked flat. He wanted her to know that he appreciated her body.

"I love your stomach," he murmured on her lips. "I love every bit of you."

He cringed mentally. That made it sound like he was telling her he loved her, yet again. Whatever, it was fine. She thanked him, but he could hear the nerves in her voice. His lips moved down to her neck, then her ribs, carefully avoiding her breasts… for now.

"Really, Len," he said as he kissed her stomach. "You are the most beautiful woman in the universe."

Finally, she relented just a tiny bit. "You're sweet."

"I'm telling the truth," he whispered as he moved his kisses to her hips. "You are so completely gorgeous. Every part of you. I love your body and your shape."

His lips trailed her lower stomach and she gasped sharply when he got to the center. He glanced up at her. "What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. Her face was a deep pink. "Just, your face there. Like, really close to… between my legs."

Neville blushed and moved up higher. "S-sorry!"

"No," she shook her head. "I… I liked it. I liked seeing that. It was just scary for a minute, to see that."

He kissed just above her belly button as his mind spun. She had liked viewing him between her legs. Merlin, he couldn't take it anymore, he wanted to snog her harder than ever before. He wanted her begging for him. His voice was commanding and full of lust. "Sit up."

Lenore adjusted raised herself and he exhaled as he stared at her. Lenore grinned as electricity jolted through his stomach. She opened her arms wide. "Snog me senseless."

Neville grinned and held her tight against his body. His lips met hers, and boy, was he snogging her senseless. He had mastered french-kissing a long time ago and he was putting it to use tonight. Lenore wrapped her perfect legs around his waist, which made him falter for just a split second before he kissed her harder. His hands ran up and down her back, holding her steady and feeling her naked warmth. As Lenore began fading into his blissful kisses, he ran his forearms up her back and cupped the back of her head in his hands. Slowly, he laid her down on the desk, not breaking their lip movement. She was cradled in his arms, completely surrounded by him on all sides. She moaned quietly on his lips and his heart exploded. Her nakedness surrounded him like an aura, pounding a reminder into his brain that she was here, with him, and this was real. Her legs tightened and he groaned as she buried her hips into his. This was the closest he had ever been to her. She was half naked, her legs wide open, his center pressed against hers. He smiled on her lips, until she pressed herself firmly into the front of his trousers, right along the length of him, and he gasped as his brain went faint.

"Your legs," he moaned. "Oh fffuck."

Lenore giggled, but he could barely hear her. He was focused on the tingling sensations below his belt that made his brain go fuzzy. She picked up his slack and kissed him, then whispered, "Calm down and keep kissing me."

Neville obeyed and returned his lips to hers. His fingers massaged her scalp, then he decided to try something he had heard girls liked. Of course, he heard this from Seamus, so it could be totally wrong, but he still decided to try. He clutched a patch of her hair between his fingers and palm, then tightened his grip and pulled her hair just enough for her to feel it. She gasped and his stomach twisted.

"Good or bad?" he murmured.

"Good," she said as she kissed him harder.

He had to stop himself from smiling. So, Seamus was right. It was a miracle. But he couldn't focus on that right now. Her tongue was driving him hysterical, dancing with his tongue until his brain couldn't take it anymore. This was like sex. Sex with tongues, it was so intimate. The thought made him furrow his brow. That was so weird. Of course it wasn't like sex. But still… it made his stomach tingle until he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned back and caught his breath as he trailed down her neck and finally to her breasts. He kissed the tops of her rounded breasts and she gasped and clutched the back of his head.

"It's a push up bra," she explained. "Just so you know. They're not this big."

"I don't care," he murmured as he sunk his face between her breasts and kissed her clavicle. "You're so bloody fit."

He moaned against her skin, her warm breasts surrounding his cheeks, and she gasped. She groaned and arched her back as he kissed her skin, but she seemed to be falling off the desk. He could feel her slipping toward him, so he pushed her forward on the desk. The only problem was, he pushed her with his groin. He pressed hismself hard against her center and she gasped with pleasure as it hit him what he just did. He couldn't stop himself from groaning. She felt too good, too perfect for him to be able to ignore, but he soon caught himself.

"Sorry!" he whimpered. "Sorry! I-I didn't mean—"

"Shh," she hushed him and attacked his lips.

She didn't make it a big deal, but his nerves overflowed. He had just been way too rough with her, way too intimate. Between kisses, he whispered another apology.

"Nev," she moaned as she ground into him again, much lighter than he had her. Still, he gasped and his brain spun. "You're fine."

He took a pause to bring himself back to levelheadedness, then returned to her chest and collar. Lenore seemed to relax underneath him, calmed down from their previous motions. "I know you thought I was falling," she said.

He tried to catch his breath. "How did you know?"

"I know you," she said as her hands rubbed his scalp.

Neville smiled against her skin, feeling the relief wash over him. "Thanks."

"It felt good, though," she teased.

Neville's kissing break lasted longer than he intended. He thought out his options, but decided to go with his gut. He pulled her hair gently and as she gasped, he dug his center into hers, abet much lighter than before. Lenore reacted immediately, although not in the way he had hoped. She gasped a second time, then laughed wildly. "Neville!"

His eyebrows furrowed in worry as he stammered, "N-no to that?"

But she continued laughing and hugged his head tight against her chest. "Just how you did it! It was actually really smooth."

Neville felt himself relax, just a little. "R-really?"

"Yeah," she grinned. "It made me nervous."

He laughed, his insides soaring. She had liked it. "Sorry."

She giggled and rolled her hips up into his. He gasped and choked back a moan. Another small giggle from her as she whispered, "You're turned on, aren't you?"

That's when he realized, he was hard enough for her to feel. He cheeks burned as she tilted his face up to meet her eye. "O-okay, d-don't tease," he smiled faintly.

"Tease you with my words?" she asked. Her hips rolled into him again and he gasped and shut his eyes tight. He could feel her perfectly on him, only his zipper between them. "Or tease you like this?"

He had to be suave about this. She had set him up so perfectly. He moved up to her lips and murmured, "Words. You can tease me like that all you want."

Lenore squeezed her legs to force him to grind against her, which made him moan. Fucking hell, he loved the pressure she was putting on him. It was one of the best things he had ever felt. She slowly began to grind on him, teasing him and adjusting her hips until she found the best angle for herself. When she found it, she gasped loudly and clutched his hair.

"There?" he managed to grunt.

She nodded desperately. "Yes."

They were going slow and deep, each moving in rhythm with each other as their lips adjusted to their pace. Every so often she would release a noise he had no idea how to describe. It was almost like a purr, or maybe a whimper. Whatever it was, it was music to his ears and he lost himself in her noises. She was getting really into this, maybe even more than any other snog they had before. His entire body covered her and she seemed to realize it at once, because she moaned his name, incredibly loud, which made his heart race.

"Nev," she gasped. "In your dream, what were we doing?"

He gulped and leaned away from her lips, but kept up his thrusts.. "B-basically this, b-but faster a-and… you know… naked."

"Well I'm half-naked and you can pick up the speed."

He gasped as she arched her back into him. Neville pressed his hips into her, then again, and again, as she returned his thrusts. They fell into a rhythm fairly quickly, him giving, her gladly receiving. He was really impressed with how he was handling himself. He couldn't stop now, he couldn't disappoint her. He decided to try and ignore his own pleasure and focus on her. It was the only way he would be able to keep this up. He controlled his noises, releasing just enough sounds to let her know he was having an amazing time, but not as much as he could be. In his brain, he was yelling, begging, telling her how bloody good she felt against his body, his lips, his center. But he ignored all that, and focused his attention on her.

"Pull my hair," she requested.

Neville obeyed and grasped her hair at the same time his center collided with hers. Lenore moaned, then smiled and kissed him harder. Each time he thrust against her, a jolt of energy flew up his torso and filled him with euphoria. Lenore was clearly losing herself in the movement, focused only on feeling him against every part her body. He pressed hard against her and she couldn't stop herself from moaning, quite loudly.

"Len," he groaned.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Good," he exhaled. "Really good."

"Okay," she whispered. "Slow down a little."

His hips slowed their movement and she relaxed. "That's better," she smiled. "Innocent grinding."

Neville laughed against her lips and she giggled with him. "I didn't want to get too worked up," she said.

"I understand completely," he whispered.

Lenore rubbed herself on his trousers. "You feel pretty worked up."

He groaned. "Y-yeah, but it's under control."

"You're lucky you wear tight jeans," she giggled.

He laughed and gathered his thoughts. He really wanted to pull away and look into her eyes, but he didn't know if he could handle that. He had to separate her from her snogging or he would be driven over the edge. He forced himself to hold a normal conversation. "By the way, I threw out those jeans you were mocking me for at the Newlywed Game."

She gasped. "Did you really?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "You peer pressured me."

"And it worked. I'll remember that."

Neville laughed against her lips, but it quickly devolved into a sharp inhalation when she arched her back and tightened her legs. "Merlin, Len," he exhaled. He placed his cheek on hers for just a second as he caught his breath.

"Don't kiss me," she whispered. "Just grind."

He laid his head in the crook of her neck as he pressed himself against her. "G-god," his voice broke, "you feel so good."

"You, too. Slow down, you're jack-rabbiting me again."

"Sorry."

"You're good."

She gasped as he slowed his circles, which made him release the tiniest sound of pleasure near her ear. He pecked her bare shoulders and shut his eyes tight. Merlin, the things he felt right now. He could rip off her clothes and fuck her senseless if they were at that stage. His stomach churned at the thought. They were nowhere near that time, but one day, maybe…

"Fuck," he exhaled so quietly she almost could not hear him.

"What?"

"This is amazing."

"I know you like grinding," she grinned.

"I do," he moaned. "But this… this is the best thing we've ever done. I-it doesn't… bother you to… feel me?"

"What?"

"Y-you know," he stammered. "T-the first time y-you felt… it… you were… I don't know… surprised? Uncomfortable? It's not… like that anymore?"

She giggled at his nerves. "Nah. It's not a big deal."

"O-okay," he whispered.

"Besides," she smiled. "I really like it."

He grunted near her ear, which made her laugh. Fucking hell, she liked it. She liked his cock and she liked it pressed against her. "Really?"

She clutched her hair and her back arched yet against from pleasure. "Yeah! You feel really nice. I mean… not only do you do nice things with it, but it just feels really… nice. I like knowing that I can turn you on."

His brain went faint. "You can. Ohhh fuck, Lenore, you can."

She yanked him tighter against her by gripping his hips with her inner thighs. She returned his thrusts, much harder and quicker than before and his brain went faint.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Nev," she gasped. He knew she wanted to tease him, to feel him driven senseless. He pressed his face hard into the crook of her neck and gripped her hair between his fingers, just anything to distract himself from the pressure below his belt. He knew if his jeans weren't so tight, he would be fully up in the air. His face was planted firmly against her shoulder, his fingers clutched her hair, and he could not stop exhaling small groans.

"Neville," she whimpered. He knew she liked allowing him to feel like he was in control, like he was the dominant one, even though he clearly was not. She was controlling him, playing him, by pretending to be a docile little lamb and it made her feel incredible, but he didn't mind one bit. He had her figured out. Snogging was the one time in his life that he could truly feel powerful, like he was doing something for someone other than himself and he saw the immediate rewards.

"Mmm," she whimpered. "Nev, don't stop yet."

"I won't."

He was fading in and out of waves of bliss, but he could do this. He could control himself. Merlin, though, when this was over… He would practically sprint to his room to take care of himself. He needed to make sure she felt the same way, so he could leave her the way she would leave him.

"H-how's it feel to you?" he asked.

"Really good," she gasped, as she clutched the back of his head with her forearms. "You're great."

He smiled. "O-okay. J-just making sure. You're sure?"

"Why would it not?"

"I-I… I'm making sure you're getting something out of it. N-not just all for me."

"Neville!" she assured him. "You're the greatest. You're making me feel so good. Every single time you thrust, I feel these tingles go up my stomach. You're making my eyes flutter, too. I can hardly keep them from blurring and rolling around."

He opened his eyes and stared at the desk next to her shoulder. "I'm doing that?"

"Yeah!"

He kissed her shoulder and was clearly grinning.

"I wouldn't just do this for you," she murmured. "I want something out of it, too."

"You deserve as much as I can give you," he groaned. "More than I can give you."

Lenore gasped and clutched his hair. "Give me as much as you can."

Neville pressed harder into her and her back spasmed. He was going faster, harder, deeper against her and she could not stop herself from moaning louder than she had ever heard herself.

"Fuck," she cried. "Oh fuck, Neville!"

His stomach flipped at the sound of her voice. Neville was determined. It was not about his pleasure anymore, he was not worried about that. His focus amplified while he tried to keep his pattern steady. He held her tight and tried to read her thoughts. He knew she wasn't faking. She couldn't be. She had to really be enjoying this, because she gasped over and over. Her hands moved to his back and she dug her nails into his jumper.

"Nev," she murmured over and over again. "God, you're powerful."

Neville was hanging on by a thread. "'P-powerful?'"

She whimpered. "Dominate me."

"Fuck, Len," he blurted out in shock. "Okay."

He moved his lips back to hers, but she cupped his jaw and moved his head up. She stared into his eyes and his mouth dropped open. He knew it, he knew this is how he would go. He needed to stop. He needed to stop now. But he couldn't. He couldn't do stop himself from thrusting against her, feeling the friction as she jumped along with him.

"Just look at me," she whispered. "Watch me enjoy you."

Lenore kept her eyes steady on his, which were full of awe and shock, until finally she could not stop her eyes from fluttering closed. "Nev, are you watching?"

"I'm watching," he breathed, his brain spinning.

"Remember me," she giggled, "for when you have another sex dream."

Neville's mood plummeted. She was joking. She wasn't really into this. She forced her eyes to open and saw Neville's red face, which made her laugh. He kissed her to make her stop and to hide his embarrassment. She had been teasing him, but it sure felt real to him.

"Here I thought you were actually turned on," he muttered as he slowed his thrusts.

Lenore paused. "What?"

"You're just kidding."

She pushed his face away from hers and looked him in the eye. "What!? I'm not kidding! What the fuck are you on about?"

Neville flushed red again. He was so upset he could feel himself shaking. "I-I actually thought y-you were… into this."

"I am!" she said. "What?"

"Y-you're laughing."

"Because I'm happy!"

Neville blinked and searched her eyes. Wait. Maybe she was telling the truth. She did laugh when she was happy. "Y-you… you were turned on?"

"Yes! A lot!"

He exhaled his breath and realized she was telling the truth. His mood leveled out once again. "Oh. Sorry!"

She lightly punched his back. "You arse, you thought I was lying to you?"

"I-I mean… I-I thought y-you were teasing."

"No! Neville, I was completely serious up until I talked about the sex dream!"

"C-completely?"

"One hundred percent. I was loving it!"

"Y-you're sure?"

"Arse, you have to trust me!" she argued. "I'm not going to lie to you. If I'm not enjoying something I'll let you know. And while we're on the subject, I'm just telling you right now that I'm never going to fake an orgasm."

His face drained of color. "W-what?"

"I'm not going to fake an orgasm," she said. "You're going to fucking do it right or I'm going to tell you to quit."

Neville's mouth hung open, then he managed to say. "O-okay. Y-yeah, don't fake. I-I want to do it right."

"Okay," she said. "Now that's out of the way… It's all related. I'm not going to pretend around you. So quit acting like I'm faking noises or reactions. I get just as much pleasure out of this as you do. You're pissing me off right now."

"I'm sorry!" he said. This was all happening so fast. He knew she was angry because she was sexually frustrated, but it still felt like real anger toward him. "R-really, Len, I-I'm so sorry. I-I trust you. I-I know you wouldn't do that. I-I'm not doubting you, I-I'm doubting… me."

"What do you have to do with it?"

"I-I'm doubting…" His eyes flickered across her face and words began spilling out of his mouth as fast as he could produce them. "I'm doubting my own abilities. To make you feel good. It had nothing to do with you. I'm so sorry. I-it's just a confidence thing. I-I don't… I'm not… I've never done this before, Len, any of it. Y-you have to understand that I'm not… I don't know how things work for girls. I-I'm still trying to learn your body. I-it's not as easy as with me. Y-you just grind on me and I'm good. Y-you like your neck kissed o-or your nipples massaged o-or pressure on your… down there. Y-you just have so many different spots that mean different things a-and have different responses. I-I want to learn them all. I-I'm trying. I'm honestly trying. A-and I'm sorry if I get nervous. You know I'm an anxious person. T-that's not going to change. Y-you're just going to have to be patient with me."

Lenore did not take her eyes off him the entire time and the moment he shut his mouth, she attacked his lips. He gasped from shock, but he returned her movement. She swirled her tongue around his mouth, then pulled back slightly to mutter, "I'm so sorry, Neville. You're right. I need to be more patient. You're such a great guy. Please don't be upset with me."

He kissed her roughly. "I'm not upset," he breathed. "Thanks for understanding."

As she devoured his lips, she whispered, "Really. I feel like a bitch."

"No," he murmured. "Not at all. Never. I misread the situation. I know you like to joke. I-I just didn't think you'd still be able to joke while… while turned on that much."

"I can joke anytime," she giggled. "You better get ready, because I can tease you no matter what body part is where."

He flushed red and nodded.

"But if it makes you uncomfortable, just tell me after I say it and I'll learn what you like and don't like."

"I like it all," he said. "I love it. You're so funny, Len. I-I just didn't expect you to be funny right then and there. It really was funny looking back. It just shocked me."

"Sorry," she whispered.

"No," he said between kisses, "absolutely do not apologize. I'm the one in the wrong. I'm sorry I stopped. I-I can tell y-you're frustrated."

Lenore giggled. "In more than one way."

His face drained of color as she thrust into him one final time. "And you are, too."

He smiled weakly and she kissed him.

"You know," he said hesitantly. "It's a damn good thing we stopped though."

"Why?"

"I was about ten seconds away from… you know."

She pulled back to look at him and he felt a blush crawl up his cheek. "Were you really?"

He exhaled and laid his head on her chest. "I was about to burst, you have no idea."

"Neville!" she giggled. "No way! Is that the closest you've ever been?"

"Yes. By far. Len, I-I couldn't have stopped myself. I was just going to keep going and pray for the best."

"And cum on me?"

He gasped at the thought, which made her laugh.

"Shhh," she giggled. "That's why we're doing this. To build up your stamina."

"I'm getting better," he grinned.

"You are!" She squeezed his biceps. "Nev, you're getting so good. You're going to be a natural."

"Y-you think so?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "You still haven't cum in your pants?"

He shook his head. "Don't jinx it."

Lenore laughed. "Alright. Eeee, Neville, this is so exciting. I love having someone to do this with. Someone to explore with."

He smiled and she ran her hands through his bangs. She weaved her hands through his hair and grinned at him so beautifully as the pair forced themselves to calm down. He held her lower back and she reached under his shirt and gripped his bare skin. He paused and looked down at her naked torso. He had to give her the same experience. Neville let go of her and began buttoning his jumper.

"Are you hot?" she asked.

He was quiet as he flung the jumper onto the desk. Then, his fingers gripped the button at the top of his collar. Lenore gasped as he undid the first two buttons. "Are you taking off your shirt?"

He nodded silently. "I-I figured I owed it to you."

"Neville!" she beamed. "Aww, thank you."

"And nothing will get me softer than the idea of being naked in front of you."

She squealed with laughter and placed her hands over his. "Can I?"

He moved his hands and let her undo the last three buttons on his shirt. She ran her hands up his chest and slid his shirt off his shoulders, then squealed again, but he was a bundle of nerves. She yanked his head down to kiss her, then she giggled. "Neville! You're so cute!"

He glanced down at his own torso. It was not nearly as pretty as Lenore's. His pale, flabby skin was nothing compared her glowing body. He gulped and furrowed his brow. "I-I guess, th-thank you."

She kissed him again, playfully, which made him feel just a tiny bit less nervous. She ran her hands across his torso, touching every nook and cranny of his body. Her hands trailed his round tummy, his lovehandles, his weird patches of hair, she even touched his slight manboobs. None of it felt as good as it should have and he knew it. On the surface, he wanted her to touch him and see him everywhere. But… he just did not have a good body, or he thought he didn't. It made him nervous that this beautiful girl was looking at… at essentially a mattress.

She pulled away and smiled, her eyes never leaving his. "Nev, you're so fit."

He blinked and his lips parted. "F-fit?"

"Yes! Oh my god, come here, put your bare skin on mine! Lay me down."

Neville held her that same way as before, his hands behind her head. He laid her down and covered her body with his. He was hesitant to allow himself to lay down on her. He just felt so… big. Lenore's hands stroked his back and she whispered, "Stop being a tease."

He gulped and pressed his naked skin to hers. She gasped at once and so did he, eventually leading him into a short moan.

"Bloody hell!" she laughed. "You feel really good."

"Y-you, too, Merlin," he exhaled.

She smiled and kissed his jaw as he soaked in the feeling of her. "Nev." She moved to his ear. "Thank you."

"F-for what?"

"For exposing yourself like this," she murmured. She kissed his ear lobe and his stomach tingled. "Really. I know you're nervous. I was nervous, too. But you're so attractive. Merlin, you're fit."

He was quiet a moment, before he whispered, "I-I don't feel fit."

She kissed his lips, then returned to his ear. "You're the most attractive man on this planet. Trust me. I wouldn't pick any other man's body over yours. Not a single one. You are my type. I can't believe you have chest hair."

He blinked. "O-oh, yeah. S-sorry, I can shave it off if—"

"No!" she gasped. "Oh my god, Neville, no! I bloody love it!"

"Y-you like it? I-it's… patchy."

She ran her hands up his chest. "It'll grow in. You're only sixteen. Neville, I bloody love chest hair. Yours is great. It's thick, dark… god, I love it. And I love your body. You're so bloody fit. God, kiss me."

He blinked from shock and kissed her. She really did seem to like his body, no matter how completely average, or even below-average, he was. She moved her tongue against his, obviously enamored with their naked closeness. He tried to let his mind relax as he fell into her movements. He forgot about his pouch and tried to focus on feeling her skin directly on his. Merlin, she felt so warm and cozy. She pressed her ribs up into him, making him gasp. She giggled and wrapped her arms tighter around him, their bare skin surrounding each other on every side.

Neville was right, his erection had gone down after being so nervous. He was definitely turned on, but not hard. His brain just couldn't focus with so much to think about. He still worried, even though at this point he knew he shouldn't be. Lenore liked his body. She was telling the truth. He knew she would never lie to him, but she was clearly stroking his ego with all the compliments.

Finally, she shrugged him away from her, kissed his jaw once, then he leaned back. She smiled up at him and his heart beat against his chest. Her giggles cradled his ears and he helped her sit up. Her hands returned to his chest and he finally grinned.

"Look at you!" she beamed. "You're so cute."

She hugged him and jammed her face against his chest, which surprised him. He gasped and she rested her cheek against his skin. "You feel so good," she said. She nuzzled her face in closer and Neville wrapped his arms around her head. She laid a single kiss on the middle of his ribs, then fell silent as she absorbed his warmth. "One day, we're just going to have to cuddle," she whispered. "Shirts off, maybe even trousers off, just in our underpants and bra. To get used to each other."

"O-okay," he gulped. "Merlin."

She giggled. "It's just a body."

"You weren't saying that when you were the first one exposed," he laughed.

"No," she smiled. "But I'm less nervous when you're naked with me. We're equals, instead of you ogling me."

"I was not ogling you!"

"Mmm, you didn't even notice my head stuck in a shirt."

"S-sorry about that."

Lenore grinned and held him tight. Neville had never seen her this flirty in his life. She had spent the evening touching and kissing him, then at night she had snogged him until he was on the edge. He rested his cheek on her hair and held her steady against his body. He loved this girl, so much that it made his heart hurt.

"Do you have a watch?"

He was snapped out of his daze. "Yeah, hang on."

He let of of her head and reached into his trousers, then snapped his pocket watch open. "It's 9:42."

"Do we want to miss curfew or no?"

"Whatever you want," he said.

"No, what do you want?"

"I… I wish we were in bed," he whispered. "Because I just want to cuddle with you."

She grinned. "Me, too. I mean, we could cuddle here if you get up on the desk."

"It's okay," he said. "I don't want us to get in trouble."

"Nev," she said as she buried her face in his chest, "tell me what you want. Be selfish, tell me if you want to stay here or leave."

He kissed the top of her head. "I want to stay here for a few more minutes."

Her lips trailed his chest. "Alright. Thank you."

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Want to come over and we'll just lay in bed?"

"Sure," she grinned.

She reached a hand up and dragged his head down to her lips. She kissed him several times, softly, sweetly, then pulled back. "Alright," she said, "let me see your back."

"What?"

She pushed him slightly backwards and hopped off the desk. Neville panicked. "My back is worse than my front."

"Nev, it's not," she smiled as he dodged her. She placed her hands on his back. "It feels so nice. You feel strong and sturdy."

After a sigh, he relented and turned around.

"Thank you!" she beamed. Her hands flew to his back and her fingers slid over every area of his skin. "Aww," she said as she placed a kiss on his shoulder blade, "you do have a nice back!"

"Thanks," he whispered, slightly comforted by her compliment.

"Do you exfoliate?"

He shook his head. "No."

"You should," she said. "I do. I'll give you a pair of exfoliating gloves."

"W-what's wrong with me now?"

"Absolutely nothing," she said before kissing his spine. "You just have dry skin and I think it would make you more comfortable. It looks like you itch right here a lot."

She placed her pointer finger on the middle of his upper back and he nodded. "I-I do."

"Dry skin," she said. "Exfoliate and put lotion on it. I put lotion everywhere at least once a day." She kissed his upper arm. "I'll even rub it on your back tomorrow if you want."

"Alright," he smiled. "Thanks. So that's how your skin looks so pretty."

She grinned. "Does it?"

He nodded. "You're glowing."

"Aww," she said as she hugged him from behind. "You're sweet."

He held on to her hands, which rested on his stomach. "Alright, Len, ready to go?"

She kissed his back once. "Yeah."

She slipped her shirt over her head and Neville did the same. Lenore urged him to hurry, so he was pretty sure he missed a button hole. Oh well, it was fine. He was too hot to put his jumper on, so he carried it with him as he walked Lenore back to Slytherin and gave her a sweet goodnight kiss.

"Goodnight," he murmured.

"Goodnight, Neville," she whispered. "You're the best."

He felt his face warm as he hugged her against his shirt.

 **.**

 **Lenore's POV**

When Lenore returned to her dormitory, it was completely empty. However, within about five minutes, Odette entered, grinning a stupid little smirk and looking gleefully rumpled.

"Odette!" Lenore gasped. "How was your snog?"

After throwing her purse and jumper onto her mattress, Odette clutched her hands to her heart. "Lenore, he's so sweet! The whole date was so nice. I've never had a bloke treat me like that before."

Lenore pouted and took a seat on her bed. "Oh my god! You liked him?"

"He's great," she smiled as she sat on Lenore's duvet with her. "And he's a really good kisser."

"No!" Lenore gasped. "Is he?"

"Really good."

Lenore gasped again. "What did you do with him?"

Odette grinned playfully. "That's none of your business."

"Odette!" Lenore grabbed her friend's arm and shook it.

"We just snogged." She laid back on Lenore's bed and squealed with excitement. "And I let him touch my breasts."

"No! Naked?"

"Bra off, under the shirt."

"Aww. That's pretty tame for you."

She grinned. "I didn't want to give the wrong impression. Plus, I don't think he's as experienced as me."

"He's not," Lenore shook her head. "Seamus told me the other day that Terry's never even touched naked breasts."

"Yeah, he… ha, he told me."

"He told you? He didn't pretend to be all suave?"

"No," she smiled. "It was kind of cute. He's a really good conversationalist, but sometimes he gets flustered."

"Aww," Lenore pouted again. "Was he flustered when he touched you?"

"No! Not at all, that's what surprised me. As soon as I unhooked my bra, he went right at it. And he was super good, too."

"Oh wow," she sighed. "Neville was as nervous as can be. I had to give him a pep talk."

"To touch your tits?"

Lenore laughed. "Yeah."

Odette giggled. "You two are cute. Len, watching you two made me want to snog Terry even more, if that makes sense."

"Me too! Watching you and Terry was so cute. Aww, I hope you two hit it off."

"Me, too," she smiled. "So tell me about snogging Neville."

"Well… We dry humped until he nearly came in his pants."

"No!" she gasped. "Ooo, Len! He was into it?"

"He was so into it!"

"I think you sitting in his lap and touching his trousers helped."

"I think so, too," she smiled. "I hadn't like, hardcore snogged him in a while either. We both took off our shirts."

"No way! How was that?"

"He's really fit. Like, obviously not in the traditional way, but—"

"I like thicker guys, too, don't worry," she smiled. "Even though Neville's thinner than Terry."

Lenore grinned. "He's so attractive. I don't think he believes me when I tell him he is. But I could curl up and lay on his chest forever."

"Lenore!" she squealed. "Oh my god, look at you being a gushy romantic!"

She blushed. "Okay, whatever. He's just cute, alright?"

"He was close to cumming in his pants? He told you this? Or you could tell?"

"He straight-up told me," Lenore said. "But I could tell. We were going at it and I made him pull away to look me in the eyes and that's when I knew he was gone."

"You expected him to finish?"

Lenore nodded. "I honestly thought he would. But that's fine with me, I don't care if he does."

Odette crinkled her nose. "It's kind of strange sometimes. You know, when I was with Roger Malone the first time, I barely got my hand around it and he came."

Lenore's eyes widened as she squeaked, "How?"

"He… he was really into it," Odette giggled. "And I mean, I wasn't upset. Sometimes they can't help it. But I did it again a different day and I know he wasn't as worked up as the first time, but literally, Lenore, one pump." She mimicked the wanking motion. "One of these and he was done. That doesn't happen. That's not normal."

"What did you say to him after it happened?"

"He was so embarrassed. So, so embarrassed. I actually felt bad for the guy. He wouldn't let me touch him a third time. I offered. I was trying to be nice. He got me off the second time and he's a nice guy, but I think he was just so humiliated. He hasn't talked to me since."

Lenore frowned. "Aw. That's actually really sad."

"I know," Odette sighed. "I wish I could've convinced him that it was okay. Honestly, truly, when you're just doing hands and mouth, the amount of time doesn't matter. I never wanted to have sex with him, so I wasn't worried about time. But he was embarrassed. We were dating, too, it wasn't just a hook-up. I'm not sure if he's seen anyone since me."

"Aww. He got you off?"

Odette nodded. "Yeah. He was actually pretty good at it. Not like, the absolute best I could ever have, but he got the job done"

"Who was the worst?"

"Wayne."

Lenore nearly shrieked, "I thought you said you didn't do anything to him!"

"Well…" Odette blushed. "I didn't want _everyone_ knowing I did something with him."

"Odette!" Lenore sighed. "Wayne?"

Odette bit her lip and giggled. "He was so bad at it. Like, I don't know what his problem was. I told him exactly what to do and he kept trying all these intricate things on me. It made me so mad, I didn't do anything to him. But I did see his willy if you want to hear about it."

"Oh my god, of course."

"Not good," she giggled. "I mean, it was fine. They all kind of look 'fine.' But his just wasn't proportionate to his body. If you looked at it alone, it was…I don't know, a little below average but that's not a problem. If you looked at it with his body, it looked so tiny. That is the problem with thicker guys sometimes."

"Was he the worst?"

"Nah, I have yet to see an awful one," Odette said. "I've only seen four. Hopefully five."

Lenore squealed. "Terry?"

"Yeah," she grinned. "I really, really want to see his, it felt nice through his trousers."

"No! You felt it?"

She nodded and giggled. "I sat on his lap."

"How did it feel?"

"Just like, a nice, normal size," she said. "Sturdy. Not like, enormous or anything, but I could clearly feel it. Have you felt Neville?"

Lenore blushed. "Yeah."

Odette grabbed her arm. "How does he feel?"

"Really nice," Lenore grinned. "Basically exactly what you said. Just nice, normal. It gets really, really strong. Like… okay, I wasn't trying to push it down, but I kind of was. Not to hurt him, and it didn't hurt him, but just enough to see if it would move down. It wouldn't budge. Well, it'd flop up of course, but not down."

"Oooo," Odette smiled. "He was turned on. Do you want to see him?"

Lenore nodded. "I'll tell you what I really want to do, once he's comfortable. I want him to sit in a chair, I'll sit on his lap and grind for a while, then I'd unzip his trousers, reach into his pants, and wank him off."

"Yes, Lenore! Oh my god, that's one of my favorite ways to do it. Because you can still kiss him."

"What's another favorite way?"

"I once did it to a guy from behind. He leaned against the wall, I got behind him, and started wanking him off."

"No! Have you ever used mouth?"

Odette shook her head. "No. I use hands and I only let them use hands. One guy literally begged me to use my mouth. He was at his wits end but he just couldn't get over the edge. I told him no, absolutely not, and he eventually finished. It just took some angle adjustments."

"Was he used to mouth?"

"No!" she said. "He'd never had mouth before. It pissed me off, I only did him once."

Lenore giggled. "Good for you."

"I'd use mouth on Terry though," she sighed.

"Would you?"

Odette grinned and squeezed Lenore's arm. "Len, I think I really like him."

"Do you?" she exclaimed.

She nodded. "I never expected I would. He's just so nice and charming. He's seriously the best guy I've ever gone on a date with."

"Did you tell him?"

"No," she shook her head. "I tried to play it cool. But we're going on a second date."

Lenore squealed. "I already love you two."

"He's attractive, too," she sighed. "Like, I know Pansy and everyone thinks he's ugly, but he's not. He's got a cute face and I like his body."

"Terry is obviously muscular," Lenore said. "I feel like Pansy doesn't understand that. He's… beefy."

Odette giggled. "It really is just muscle with a layer of fat. Like a rugby player."

"Yes!" Lenore said. "Like, maybe he couldn't run far or fast, but he sure could pick you up."

"He did pick me up!" she gasped.

"No!"

"Oh my god, I almost cried. We were walking through the hallway, just talking, then we slipped into a utility cupboard. We started kissing, and fuck, is he good. I wrapped one of my legs around him and he put his hands under my arse and said, 'Want me to pick you up?' And I died!" Odette squealed as Lenore hung on to her every word. "He pressed me between the wall and him, then I told him to sit down and I sat in his lap!"

"Odette!" she gasped. "Oh my god. Was he rough or gentle? Do you think he's more dominant?"

"I don't know," she sighed dreamily. "He was rough, but also really delicate. Like, he'd ask before doing risky things, or he'd wait for me to initiate. I think he's a rough sub."

"Oh my goddd!"

"Literally, the best snog of my life," she grinned. "I've never had a guy pick me up! I'm kind of thick myself, so they've always hesitated. But not Terry."

"Awww, Odette!" Lenore beamed. "I hope he really likes you!"

"I honestly think he does," she grinned. "A little before we finished snogging, he leaned back and said, 'Wait. Umm…' Then he hesitated for a long time. He told me he didn't know how far this was going to go and he just wanted to let me know that he hasn't done much with girls and then he apologized for assuming I did those things and then he asked if we could go slow."

Lenore gasped. "What did you say?"

"I told him I understand completely and that of course I'll go slow. Then we kept kissing, a little less urgently, and then he walked me back here and dropped me off at the door!"

"Odette!" Lenore squealed yet again.

"We're going out next Thursday after dinner."

"Stop! Oh my god. Oh my god. Terry Boot and Odette Trujillo. This can not be happening. I love it."

"You made it happen!"

Lenore shook her shoulders with excitement. "Today's been a really good day, you know that?"

Odette's eyes twinkled as she said, "You don't have to tell me."


End file.
